The Masque of Chicago
by TheEndless7
Summary: Bennevolyn Brave thought she was just a normal girl struggling her way through college. At least until she met Anton, and discovered a strange underworld of the city that she never fathomed existed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit.

A/N. This had an interesting start. It was both an attempt to see if I could write something from the first person female perspective, and a bet by a friend that I couldn't write something better than all the vampire drivel that existed. I'm not sure I succeeded on either count, but hey, such is life. It doesn't use much from the 'Vampire - the Masquerade' game except general concepts; although, I was sort of basing it off of things in the game. Same goes for Twilight. I use some obscure references that are developed from that series. Although, that's about it. None of the characters from either series will appear in this. At the very least it's A/U of both. Regardless, hope you enjoy it. I have about 75,000 words written, but whether or not they get posted is a different story. Thanks for reading!

The Masque of Chicago

I don't believe in the paranormal. Or the supernatural. Or really any of that fantasy stuff. Sure, it was always fun to read about when I was younger. You know, sexy vampires, sexier werewolves, the occasional elf or pirate worked in. It was all a blast. But I'll admit, I'm a sucker for romance novels. Hey, don't judge, every English geek has a guilty pleasure. But where was I? Oh yes, I, like just about every other rational person I know, I don't believe in the paranormal.

I consider myself pretty normal. Going to college, working a dead-end retail job to pay tuition, and generally being depressed and confused about what I should do with my life. You know, typical. So how did I wind up here? That's a good question. Of course, I suppose I should first explain where here is.

It's early. Or late. Well, it may even be midday. I'm not certain. Sometimes it can be hard to tell. I suppose it depends entirely upon your perspective. I'm groggy. I've just woken up. You'd think that would help with figuring out what time it is, but during these months I rarely have a clue.

The sun is shining through one of the windows. I vaguely remember something about that being a bad thing. I yawn. He says my yawn is cute. For a genius, he's not very bright. Of course, he'd hate being called a genius. But when you've been around as long as him, though, I challenge you to not be one.

Instinctively, though, I climb out of bed. I make it three steps to the window before I remember I'm naked. Funnily, it only takes me one step to get back to the bed. I grab one of the loose blankets. He's a strange one. He doesn't sleep with the typical bed, you know, sheets, a comforter, a blanket and a quilt, like you get at a hotel. Instead, he has some sheets, then a bunch of soft blankets. He tends to cocoon himself in his sleep too. It's cute, even if I sometimes wake up cold.

So anyway, I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself before scampering back over toward the window. The view stops me in my tracks. Every time he notices, he says I'll get use to it. Hardly. To be in the heart of downtown, above everything, with a gorgeous view of the lake. It's stunning. I feel silly, every time, for grabbing the blanket. The sun on the large windows is enough to heat my body, and there's no way anyone is looking up and seeing me. But you know, modest sensibilities. I'm not even sure I like being naked when we're intimate, much less when I'm just occupying myself while he sleeps.

One day our sleep schedules will match. But that day will not be for a few years.

When I'm sure no significant amount of sunlight will penetrate our windowed fortress I move back to the bed. He's sleeping there, breathing lightly. That's always struck me. He breathes far more when he sleeps. He sleeps on his side. Usually facing me, but last night it was away. Now his dark hair and the pale skin on his neck is all I can see. He looks content. I suppose I should explain how thing got to this point. That would probably be for the best. Well, here it is, my tale of me.

How I met the Baron of Downtown Chicago.

It was fall. The leaves on the trees had just started to change to the beautiful red color that would last for about a week until the desolation of empty trees set in. That, however, is nothing that I would notice. To me, it was just that lull before the storm. The time when my retail job slows down before becoming insanely busy for a month.

I remember the first night I met him with vivid clarity. It started out so normal. I was working close at Forever Twenty One. My feet hurt. I had a headache. I was sick of telling people they looked good in whatever they were attempting to try on.

It was late and I had a midterm on British romantic literature the next day. I was looking forward to crawling onto a bus, half-dozing my way back to my dorm, reading my notes on Keats and Shelley, crawling into my bed and hopefully having my alarm wake me up at the proper time. But then, with fifteen minutes left in my stupid shift, they showed up.

"Hey Lyn!" Sara yelled. She was my roommate. We didn't know each other well. Randomly assigned and all that. She was younger than me. I'd missed a year due to my parents' accident. Luckily, they'd left me enough money that my tuition was mostly taken care of. But spending money was harder to come by.

"Hi, Sara," I replied, turning to face her. The store was pretty much empty at that point. No one had really shown up for the last half hour, so I had spent the majority of the time standing around and waiting. She was standing with two of her friends. I didn't recognize one, but I knew the other. Megan, she was in some of my English classes. We got along pretty well. All three were dressed a tad too promiscuously for my tastes. But they were young. Well, my age, and naïve.

"Megan, Jane and I are going to Grand Lux to grab some food, and try to get some boys to buy us drinks. Wanna join us?" She asked in a way that didn't make it seem like too much of a question. I didn't really have any interest in joining them. I was tired and sore. But I was hungry, the restaurant was half a block away, and she was going out of her way to invite me along. I could always eat something, give them some cash, and head home and study. It certainly sounded like a better option than making myself a meal and studying immediately.

"Yea, sure. I'm done in fifteen minutes," I replied. Sara nodded a bit.

"We'll wait," she said. She smiled at me. It looked somewhat fake. But she was at least trying to be nice. And we all know how hard it is for science and arts people to get along. She thought my obsession with english and dance was silly and useless for later in life, and I thought her interest in biology and organic chemistry was a borderline mental illness. They didn't have to wait long. A few moments later my manager noticed three girls milling around me as I did absolutely nothing.

"Why don't you clock out early, Benne?" he said, smiling at the small group of us.

"Are you sure? I can help close." I tried to hide the little bit of excitement that the prospect of leaving work early offered me. I didn't do a very good job.

"Yes. Get out of here. See you on Saturday," he replied. I simply nodded, ran to the back to swipe out, and rejoined my roommate and her friends. A moment later we were walking out onto the street when one of her friends, I think Jane spoke.

"Wait, he called you Benne. I thought Sara said your name was Lyn?" I couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh. Why couldn't my parents have simply given me a normal name?

"Yes. My full name is Bennevolyn," I explained. "I'm not sure where my parents came up with it. I go by either Lyn or Benne." When I was younger, it was almost always Benne. Now, Lyn seems to be easier, and more commonly accepted.

"That's kinda cool. A pretty name at least," Jane said. I wondered how something could go from kind of cool, to at least being pretty, but chose to not pursue the matter. Moments later we spun through the revolving door of the Grand Lux Café and ascended the escalator to the restaurant proper.

The restaurant was dimly lit, and there weren't many souls in it that night. I remember a hockey game being on one of the televisions, and Sportscenter on the other. The bartender looked remarkably like Lewis Hamilton. Don't ask me how I know who Lewis Hamilton is. My father had loved motorsports. Megan went to talk to the hostess, but Sara stopped her.

"No, we don't need a table, let's just take one of those circular ones by the bar," she said, and started walking off toward the small bar by the windows. She claimed a table with four stools around it.

We all sat, they poured over the menu and immediately started chatting about it. I wasn't that interested. I'd probably just order water and then something to eat.

I looked up at the TV with the hockey game on. I watched it for about thirty seconds before giving up. Then I looked at Sportscenter. That lasted about fifteen seconds.

That's when I looked down at the bar and saw him. He was pale, but that wasn't unusual in Chicago at the start of the cooler months. He wore dark jeans and a dark blue button up shirt. His black hair wasn't quite long enough to be considered past normal, but it was close. And his eyes, I saw them only briefly at that first glance. A pale gray, I remembered clearly, even in the dim light of the room.

He didn't look at me. His eyes were on the hockey game, watching carefully, yet his expression didn't indicate he cared much what happened in it. But, unlike me, he could at least follow the action. I felt momentarily jealous of that, despite not having any interest in the sport myself. I couldn't stop looking at him though. There was something about him. I still can't explain it. But even then I knew he'd be important.

The dinner itself was pretty typical. I ordered some chicken thing. It came with carrots, asparagus and some mashed potatoes. I only ate about half of it before I felt full, or maybe just annoyed by the company. Regardless, I probably ate more than I should have. Here, I'll give you some snippets of the conversation that so entertained me.

"Bartender is cute."

"I don't know, not my type, besides, he looks short"

"Oh, not your type, what are you racist?"

"No! Of course not! He's short! And shaved head, ugh."

"The one at the end of the bar is cute." No. He was mine. They shouldn't be allowed to talk about him.

"Yea, a little. But he's too pale, and he looks like he could be a lot older than he appears" Oh Ha. He was not really any paler than them. I could have sworn that he smirked when they talked about him too, but he gave no indication of hearing the conversation.

"Oh three cuties just walked in!" They weren't that attractive. At least I didn't think so. They looked like douche bags, to put it bluntly. The kind of pseudo jock with too-tight polo shirts and khaki pants. They were loud, too, laughing obnoxiously about something stupid. The other patrons of the restaurant all looked over at them. Well, everyone but the stranger at the corner of the bar. His eyes didn't leave the closing minutes of the hockey game. But somehow, I think he knew exactly when they entered.

"Ooo, they're pretty. Let's get them to come over and buy us drinks!"

"Oh we should, but how?"

"It can't be that hard. Hey, they're looking at us!" It was Sara who spoke last. She then smiled as coquettishly as she could. Which, trust me, wasn't very much, but still made me slightly jealous. Two of the boys looked at us. They both then hit the third and after a few moments of smirking and attempting to act cool. The group walked to our little table. The one in the middle immediately started to talk to Sara, another wound up almost immediately double teamed by Megan and Jane, and the last one started to, much my dismay, talk to me.

"Hey. So what's your name?" He said. Really a phenomenal opening if you ask me. I gazed around for a few moments, hoping he would disappear. It was probably mean of me to hope that. He wasn't ugly. But he just totally wasn't my type.

"I'm Lyn," I said, attempting to sound interesting. I even forced myself to smile.

"Greg," he replied, sounding somewhat full of himself. He leaned against the table, far too close to me for my taste. "So what do you do?"

"I'm going to school. Work part time at Forever Twenty-One, too," I said.

"Oh? What are you going to school for? I have a bachelor's in economics." His voice indicated that I should be impressed by that. For some reason, I wasn't.

"English and Dance, with a minor in History." I knew exactly what he would ask next. It was the same question everyone asked.

"Oh really? And what are you going to do with those?" It came out like clockwork. My degrees would be useless. I knew that. I should probably change them. But that would cost even more money. And I liked English and Dance. And damn it, I was a good dancer. I'd find something to do with them.

"I have no idea. They're just things I enjoy." I replied somewhat snottily. He didn't seem to catch it though. I noticed that the other boys were getting ready to by drinks for my underage roommate and her friends. Greg seemed to think he should be doing the same.

"Would you like me to get you something to drink?" He had this infuriating smile. A smile that seemed to imply that I would owe him something for a seven dollar drink. I wanted to hit him, and he wasn't even really being that abnormal, or that mean.

"No. I have to be up early tomorrow. I won't be drinking. Can you excuse me for a minute? Bathroom…" I said, standing up. He just smiled.

"Alright, but don't be long babe. We'll discuss that drink more when you get back." Babe? No. And did he just not listen to anything I had said? I hate people sometimes.

I walked into the bathroom wondering why I didn't just drop the excuse that I had to be at a test in the morning. I should have just grabbed my purse and left. But I didn't really want to. I washed my hands, for no apparent reason other than it gave me something to do. Then I looked in the mirror. The girl who looked back looked more worn than I liked. It had been a long year. My hazel eyes still were my best feature, I thought. I moved a strand of black hair from my face and just stood there for a few moments.

Well. I'd just go and grab my purse and leave. I still needed to study, and I really should be in bed soon. This test was going to kick my ass. I dried my hands and walked back into the restaurant proper.

Imagine my surprise when Greg had his arm around Megan, and they each had a drink in their hand. Oh well. It's not like I really cared either way. Although, I suppose it may have been nice to have someone pay attention to me for a bit. I suddenly felt hopelessly lonely. For a moment, the room felt like it was forcing me out, forcing me to be alone.

I took a few deep breaths and made my way back to the table. No one noticed I returned to the table. My stool was blocked by Greg's body, but I grabbed my purse off of it, and lifted my coat up carefully. I turned toward the bar as I attempted to throw the coat on. I stopped mid motion.

He was watching me. Carefully. When I saw him he smiled that guilty smile that said he knew he was caught, and didn't care. He instead gestured to the stool next to him. I should have probably just left. But part of me wanted to make the boy jealous, and part of me wanted to prove to myself that a boy really could be interested in me.

Of course, it felt odd to even think of him as a boy. I gave in to worse judgment and walked over to the bar. I could feel Sara's eyes on me, but I didn't care. The four steps to the bar seemed to take forever.

When I sat across from him in the padded stool he poured me a glass of red wine without even asking. I didn't really want any alcohol, but I didn't want to be rude. I lifted the glass, being careful to hold it by the stem, like I remembered my mother telling me was the proper way to hold a wine glass, and brought it to my lips. I took a cautious sip. It was really, really good. Cherry and blackberry mix with a fruit aroma. I put the glass down.

"Wow. That's a good one." Weak response, I know, but it was all I could think to say. He smiled politely before responding.

"It is okay. The best they have here, I have much better at home." He leaned back in his chair, facing me still, and watched as I looked at the bar for a moment.

"I don't think that I would be able to tell the difference," I said. And it was the truth. I enjoyed wine, sure, but hell, I'm twenty. I'm not even supposed to drink, much less know the finer aspects of a good bottle. My parents had tried to teach me about it, but I blew them off a couple of times. What I would give now to have just spent the time with them.

"You are selling yourself short," he said, but I wasn't paying attention so I didn't quite catch it.

"What?" I asked, snapping out of my daydream about wine drinking with my parents.

"I said that I think you are selling yourself short," he spoke quietly. His voice has a certain calmness to it. He lifted his own glass, twirled it expertly, and then took a small sip and placed the glass back on the bar.

"Oh, I doubt it. I don't know anything about wine," I admitted.

"You may not. But you could tell this one was better than most. So, while you may not be able to write a wine spectator-esque review of the bottle, I think you would at least be able to tell it was of a finer quality." There was something strange about the way he spoke. He was perfectly content and calm, his voice betrayed absolutely nothing. It was almost eerie.

"If you insist," was all I could think of to say. But somehow, I felt both complimented, and like I should flee. I peered up at him and took another sip of wine. He smiled at me, fully. It was surprising. He had perfectly straight and white teeth. I couldn't help but smile a little bit to myself at that. Of course he had perfect teeth. Why wouldn't he?

"And I do insist" he replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I am Anton. Anton Tepes," Something about the name was strangely familiar. I thought about it for a moment.

"Tepes? Isn't that Vlad the Impaler's last name?" I asked, feeling like a total geek. He laughed quietly, in a rather reassuring way.

"I believe it was." Was all he said, still smiling ever so slightly. He took a sip of wine again.

"Do you know about him?" I asked, somewhat excitedly. What can I say, I'm a geek, I like random history.

"I think so. Prince of Wallachia. Rather bloody ruler, famous for impaling his enemies. And, I believe, the basis for Bram Stoker's _Dracula?_" he spoke in a way that made him seem unsure of the answer, but I was smarter than that. I frowned a little bit.

"Oh…" was all I said. I had that bubble-bursting feeling. Again, I felt like I should leave, but he smiled warmly at me again. And somehow, I got the feeling he didn't want me to leave, so I took another sip of wine and decided to ask, mostly as a joke, "so, any relation?"

"I have no idea," he laughed, smiling rather fully again. I got the feeling that he knew something more than he let on. But that was just me being silly. Again, there was an odd lull in the conversation. I wasn't sure what to ask, or what we even had to talk about. I looked at him closely. He smiled back again. He looked young. I couldn't imagine him being much older than me, yet something about him screamed that he was indeed much older.

I sized him up the best I could. His eyes where a striking feature. I don't think I've seen gray eyes anywhere else. Something was alluring about them. They invited you in without even realizing it. His hair was black black. I call mine black, but there's brown in there than you can identify upon closer examinations. His was black. Black as the night or the raven or whatever corny cliché you wish to use.

He was in incredible shape too. Why he was simply wearing thin, short-sleeved, button-up in the cold, early fall days, is beyond me, but his arms were great, perfectly muscled. And just looking at the rest of him I could tell it would be much of the same. He had the perfect mix of muscles and tone. At first glance he didn't seem to be overly large, or like he spent way too much time in a weight room, but after looking more I could tell he made an effort at least.

His outfit may have left something to be desired. A shirt and jeans had that oddly casual appearance. But again, there was more to it. They both had to be designer. He was wearing Prada shoes, black loafers to be exact, I noticed the red stripe. But I couldn't tell what designer his other clothing was. At the very least it looked nicer than the things I sold at my little retail job.

"So, what do you do?" I eventually asked. I was curious about him.

"Oh. I dabble in things. Do a little of this, and a little of that, mostly." He replied. He smiled sheepishly then, like he knew just how terrible of an answer that was, but that I wasn't going to get more than that out of him. So I raised an eyebrow and thought of the most annoying question I could come up with.

"Is there a lot of money in that?" I said it dryly. He tilted his head back and laughed. I knew them all of my friends must be staring at me now, and felt slightly embarrassed. When he lowered his head he was still laughing a little bit, shaking his head slightly.

"Well that depends," he said, still smirking at me. "Sometimes you can make a lot, sometimes you can lose a lot, and sometimes you barely break even. It is an art of learning what to dabble in at what time." I stared at him for a moment, too confused for words. He smiled a little bit. "What about you? I do not believe I even have your name yet?"

"Oh..uhm," how silly of me to not introduce myself. See if I was classy, like the women he was probably usually with, I would have done that movie-star haughty laugh, said exactly what I was thinking, and then introduced myself elegantly. Instead, I sat there, like a dumb fish, thinking this all over while debating if I tell him my embarrassingly long name, or go with one of the shorter ones. Embarrassingly long won out. Probably out of habit. "I'm Bennevolyn, Bennevolyn Brave." I realized that I introduced myself the exact same way he had and felt slightly embarrassed about that, too. I could feel the blood rushing into my face.

"Bennevolyn? That's a pretty name. Unique too. I do not think I've heard that one before." His voice was still calm and unlike most people, he didn't react in the usual surprised and confused way upon hearing my strange name.

"Thank you," as all I could think of to stay to that. He kept smiling at me. It was strange. I felt odd that he was smiling at me, but I wanted him to keep smiling at me. I wanted him to focus only on me. I never wanted him to look at anyone else ever again. Is that absurd of me to ask? Probably.

"So, Bennevolyn," he started to ask. I liked the way he said my name. It rolled nicely off of his tongue. He didn't hesitate over it like most people did when they first said it. "What is it that you do?"

"Ah, I work retail at Forever Twenty-One," I said quickly. He raised an eyebrow at me. I looked away, back at my wine. I didn't want him to think me a fool for taking an unmarketable college degree choice. He nodded a little bit.

"So it is coming up on your busy season. Be picking up a lot of hours over the next few weeks?"

"A few, but not that many. Mostly over Thanksgiving when I don't have class," I said and almost immediately regretted it. Now he would ask what I was studying, and what I was going to do with that, and I'd be annoyed at having to answer those same questions over and over.

"Oh? What are you studying?" He asked, exactly like I knew he would.

"English, Dance, and History," I replied automatically. It's amazing. I've been asked the question so many times that I don't even think before the answer blurts out of my mouth. It's like an absurd form of turrets or something.

"Oh, really?" He asked with a full smile. And I knew the question was coming. The one I hated above all else. But then he said something that completely surprised me. "I have a Ph. D in English, and one in History too." Then his smile shifted into a playfully wolfish smirk and he added, "nothing in Dance though, perhaps you should dance for me to let me see if I should study it more." I went bright red. How do you respond to that? How do you even have the confidence to say that within the first few minutes of talking to a girl? Why did I want to go home with him?

"Uhm. I.. Uh… Maybe some other time," I managed to stutter. He smiled fully at me again and laughed quietly under his breath.

"I'll hold you to that. So, what area in English?" he asked. I paused, unsure of how to respond.

"Oh you know. The degree is just English, it's an overview thing, take classes everywhere," I replied, wondering exactly what he meant.

"Yes, but what area is your favorite?" he asked, smirking a little bit. I paused to think about that a bit. I was only in my second year of the program after all, most of the classes hadn't been a specific area, but an overview of a lot of areas. It didn't take me long to decide on one though.

"Oh, Romantic and Victorian, mostly." I remembered the classes I took on both; they were some of my favorites. He nodded his understanding.

"Not a bad choice. I prefer the Elizabethan's myself. My Ph. D is in British Literature in general. Who are your favorites? Dickens?" He asked. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn't daydreaming. Was he really talking to me about books? That was…that was awesome! I made a face at the Dickens question, though.

"No. I prefer Conan Doyle in the Victorians. And Shelley in the Romantics," I replied, still feeling that this may be too good to be true.

"Which Shelley?" He asked.

"Oh, both of them," I replied with a smile of my own. "But I meant Percy. His poetry is amazing. Same with Keats. Not that into Byron, or Wordsworth, though," I added. He nodded his understanding.

"I can understand that. I find Byron a bit tiring myself. Never really cared either way about Wordsworth. Same with Blake. No interest in the Elizabethan period?" He asked, looking curiously at me. I felt bad, as it was obvious he was rather interested in it. But I hadn't taken anything about that period yet. I was supposed to next semester. I blushed a little bit, and answered as honestly as I could.

"I don't know. I only know it was the period that Shakespeare was alive for. I won't take anything about it until next semester." I looked away from him, not wanting to see if my answer disappointed him. Isn't that silly of me? Worried if a complete stranger will be disappointed in my lack of an education in his favored field? Probably, but if you would ever meet him you'd want to impress him too.

"Ah," he said with a frown. But then he smiled again. "Oh well, I think you will like it. John Donne and Ben Johnson are excellent writers. _The Flea_ is a personal favorite of mine. The language can be a bit tough at first. I find myself exceedingly lucky that I have a natural penchant for it."

"Oh. Well…uhm…I didn't struggle much with Shakespeare in High School, if that matters," was all I could come up with to reply. He smiled a bit more at me and simply nodded.

"That actually does matter. It means you should not have too much difficulty with the rest of the language. Now how about history?" he asked. This one was actually easier for me to answer, my preferred topics in history immediately came to mind.

"Well for me I suppose it's more of a cultural thing there. I'm fascinated by the development of countries and cities. You know, like, the creations of metropolises and stuff. I'm really fascinated by Chicago and how it was built. And really the development of the United States as a whole." I answered quickly. He nodded along as I spoke, then took a few moments to respond, taking a sip of his wine before responding.

"That's interesting," he said. I was confused. He was more animated about the English discussion but seemed like he didn't care about this one, he smiled weakly again and put his wine glass down. I took a sip of mine while I thought of something to say.

"Let me guess, your Ph. D is in that too?" I asked, trying to sound meaner than I did. He tilted his head back a little bit and laughed again. After a moment of that he picked up the wine bottle on the bar between us and refilled each of our glasses. I smiled politely as he did.

"No." he said bluntly. "I wish it were, then I would have something intelligent to add to the conversation. It does sound like an interesting topic. However, it certainly is not something I am overly prepared to talk about. History of this country in general is not my strong suit. Although I do like to think I know a fair bit about the city itself." He smiled back, slightly less politely than my smile.

"I see. Well, what's your history expertise then, Anton?" I asked. It was the first time I'd said his name aloud. It sounded nice to say. I liked the way it felt too.

"Eastern European history, mostly. Late Medieval to early Renaissance for the time period," he replied.

"That explains knowing Vlad the Impaler," I smiled a little bit. He nodded a bit.

"Yes, but It was not my intention to ruin your fun so early in the conversation," he smirked a tad at me. I laughed a little bit. It was my turn to shake my head, mostly in disbelief. Who was this guy? I had to ask one question, even though I knew it would be rude.

"I'm sorry. If you don't mind my asking. How old are you? You don't look a day over twenty-five. Yet you have two doctoral degrees?" The question had been bothering me. He didn't take any offense though, instead he just smiled his sheepish smile and answered me readily.

"Twenty-four, to be exact," he said. I blinked. Talk about feeling like a failure for a moment. He's four years my senior and has degrees I haven't even dreamed of trying to get yet? Wasn't it supposed to take years to write a dissertation? I said the first thing that came into my mind.

"Bullshit." Aren't I the perfect lady? I know it was even ruder of me to say, but somehow, he reacted exactly how I would have expected him to. He smiled and laughed a bit.

"Nope," he said. He stood up a little bit and I worried that I had offended him and he was going to leave because of my angry accusation. But instead he simply pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, took out a small plastic card, and tossed it onto the bar in front of me.

I looked down at it. It was an Illinois driver's license. Sure enough, his birthday made him just over twenty-four years old. Wow.

I also learned that he was six-foot two, assuming he didn't lie on his license like just about everyone else I knew. And that he weighed a hundred and ninety pounds. He wasn't an organ donor, either. That bothered me a little bit. Why wouldn't someone be an organ donor? It wasn't like they were going to kill you and take your organs if you wound up at the hospital.

"Why aren't you an organ donor?" I asked before really contemplating the question. He looked confused for a moment, which was nice to see. Although, whoever had 'organ donor' as the question that broke through his tranquil shell, well, I'll gladly cash your ticket.

"People would not have much use for my organs," he said. Strange answer, right? Someone needing a liver or a kidney would disagree.

"Oh come on now. You could save a life after your death!" I said, meaning for it to sound teasing. He looked at me for a moment and shook his head. His look was chilling and I felt suddenly stupid again. But then he smiled, weakly, and I got the impression he had assumed I would notice something, or know something, that he then realized I couldn't. It must have been something that was so much of his life that he couldn't fathom others not knowing it.

"I am not as healthy as I look," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What's wrong?" I couldn't help but ask. Reflex, you know? Someone mentions something is wrong with them and you just have to know!

"Isn't that a little personal, Bennevolyn?" he said. His voice wasn't as cold as one would expect though. I realized that we did really just meet, and that perhaps it was best if we didn't speak about our entire lives in the first conversation.

I felt briefly like I should run away. I still had that patented test excuse for tomorrow. Except he'd probably offer to study with me to make sure I got a good grade. I'd hate to think of what he knew and I didn't. Maybe I could con him into taking the test for me. The professor would probably notice.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I blushed and distracted myself with another sip of wine. My glass was almost empty again, and the bottle had been removed. I hoped he wouldn't order another one.

"It is quite alright," he said. He finished his wine. "I am not accustomed to people not knowing. It caught me off guard." He held his hand out. I remembered his license was still in front of me. I picked it up, taking one last look at it before handing it back to him. I paused for a moment and computed something about the address on the license.

"Wait. You live in the Ritz-Carlton residencies that just opened up on Michigan Avenue?" I asked, astonished. I'd seen the signs from when they were building it. The starting at amount on a condo in there was more than I'd hoped to make in my life. He smiled again, this smile was filled with pride. He must really like his condo.

"Yes, I do. In the penthouse. Great views in every direction. The lake is gorgeous in the morning," he said. His voice was soft. He slipped his license back into his wallet and smiled at me again.

I half expected him to invite me up. What would I say? Would saying yes make me a slut? Well, probably, but only if I slept with him. Wouldn't the purpose of inviting me up be to sleep with me? Was that the point of the wine? Gah, I needed more experience with interesting, hot, men who obviously have way too much money for their own good. I shook my head a little before speaking.

"You're going to have to teach me to dabble. It seems to be more profitable than you let on," I joked. It was all I could think of to say.

"Maybe. But I assure you it can be dreadfully boring, and you are likely to lose as much money as you make." I couldn't tell if he was teasing. But I think he was. He caught the bartender's eye and made like he was going to order another bottle of wine when I spoke.

"Oh no. That's quite alright. I shouldn't drink more. I have to take a test tomorrow morning. I didn't even really want to come out, my roommate just ambushed me at work," I explained quickly. He looked at me for a moment and nodded, then gazed over toward where my roommate was. I had completely forgotten about them. Sara had her lips locked onto one of the guy's faces. Jane was practically in another's lap, and Megan and Greg seemed to have hit it off quite well, by the way she was rubbing him. It was rather disgusting.

"Which one is your roommate?" he asked.

"The one trying to suck the guy's face off," I replied.

"And how long have you known her?" he asked.

"A few months. Randomly assigned roommates in the dorm. She's not so bad, really. I just don't go out with them much. I wasn't sure if I was going to come back to school. I took a year off after my parents, well, died. Car accident." I looked down. It was still really hard to talk about.

"I am sorry," he said softly. His voice was somewhat reassuring. He reached out and took my hand, which was resting on the bar, gently into his own. His skin was surprisingly soft. It felt strange, though. He wasn't cold. But he didn't seem warm enough, like perhaps he was outside for a little too long and still warming up. I wouldn't really notice that until later.

"Oh..it's. Well. It isn't really okay. But it's getting there, you know. They left me enough money to finish up my degrees. And I'm going to live with my grandmother over the summers. It shouldn't be so bad." He nodded his understanding. We were silent for a few moments. Neither of us really was sure where the conversation was going to go from there, but he didn't take his hand off of mine, which made me feel a little bit better. Maybe he really did like me. Eventually, he spoke.

"Do you live around here?" It was a basic question, just meant to spur on the conversation.

"No, not really. I live up closer to Lincoln Park. I take the bus home." I paused for a moment. "I really should be getting home." I didn't really want to leave. But I felt like I really should. If I stayed much longer I may end up going home with him. And while that may not be a particularly bad thing, it wasn't something I was ready for.

"Alright," he said, taking out his wallet. It was one of those little slips of a wallet that could probably only hold four cards and a little bit of cash. He reached in and took out a few bills, I couldn't see what they were, and put them down on his part of the bar. "Let me at least walk you to your bus stop." I meant to protest. It was completely unnecessary; the stop was only a few blocks away. But it felt silly to protest such a simple nicety.

"Okay. That would be nice. It's not far." I said. I stood up. He did the same. Before I realized much had happened he was sliding my jacket onto my shoulders. He didn't seem to have a jacket. He walked to the escalator and started back down to the ground floor lobby. I didn't notice Sara's eyes focused on the back of my head. I wouldn't even spare her a thought until she confronted me about leaving with a strange man. Odd, considering she was all over another strange man at the same time. He held the door for me and we stepped out into the cold street. There were a few people walking around, there always were in this part of Chicago, no matter the time of day. And really, it wasn't even that late yet. One of the first people to walk past us nodded at Anton, and said something under his breath to him, Anton simply nodded back. I thought about asking about it, but something told me that I shouldn't. After a few moments, I did manage another question.

"Aren't you cold?" It struck me that he was wearing just a t-shirt outside in this weather. But he wasn't acting like it was anything out of the normal.

"Not in this weather. I like the cold. In a few more weeks I'll get a coat, but right now, no, I am not cold," he replied.

"Oh. I'm not a huge fan of the cold, despite living in the area my entire life. I'd rather move someplace warm," I said.

"I have tried warmer climates. I find I like having four distinct seasons too much," he replied. I laughed a little bit.

"Is there anywhere you haven't been?" I asked, teasingly.

"Most of Africa," he replied without missing a beat. I shook my head, laughing quietly and watching my breath billow out in front of me in the cool air. We arrived at the bus stop. He stood next to me while we waited, I laughed again, thinking mostly to myself.

"For some reason, I believe you," I said quietly. After a moment I added, "You must have a very interesting life." He was silent for a moment.

"Pretty interesting, I think. I am content with it, at the very least." He looked down the road briefly, then back at me. I smiled when he looked at me, which made him smile, which made me feel good about having him smile at me.

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime," I said, nodding like I had some sort of authority over him. He chuckled lightly at me.

"Maybe I will. But not tonight. It appears your ride is about to arrive." He nodded toward the bus that was rolling down the street toward the stop. I looked at it for a moment.

"Oh, you're right. We'll I'll hold you to that. You'll have to tell me all about the adventures of Anton Tepes someday," I demanded as best I could. He laughed again and nodded.

"If you wish, but in return you must tell me of the grand quests of Bennevolyn Brave."

"Oh, I'm not that interesting. Nothing really grand, wouldn't be very fun to hear about," I replied, blushing slightly. The bus pulled up to the stop then.

"Well, I will be the judge of that, Miss Brave," he said with a smirk. He then took my hand and raised it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on my palm. I couldn't help but blush more. I didn't know what else to do so I simply spoke.

"If you insist, Mr. Tepes," I replied and, because I couldn't think of anything better to do, got onto the bus. I took a seat near the front and looked out the window. He stood at the stop for a few moments, until the bus started to move. Then, he turned and walked off down Michigan Avenue. I wondered where he was going. It didn't seem to be toward his home.

I smiled at the prospect of hearing about him. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything. I'm not sure what caused me to be so attracted to him, but I was. I couldn't wait until we would meet again. Then I remembered something that made my heart drop. I had no way to contact him. I knew where he lived, sure, but what would I do, sit in his lobby and wait for him to walk in? That's stalkerish. Why, oh why, you stupid girl, didn't you get his number? I almost jumped off the bus to run after him, but when I looked for him out the window again I couldn't see him anymore. I looked down into my lap and sighed, wondering if I would ever see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit.

Chapter Two

I aced my test the next day. It was one of those rare tests where, as you're writing the answers in those stupid little blue books, you just know you're getting an A.. It was a bit strange, though, considering I hadn't studied when I got home. But somehow the brief chat with Anton made me feel like I remembered more. Perhaps it was just because he forced me to think; however briefly, about the subjects.

I walked into my dorm in the early afternoon. My day was free at that point. I prepped a thing of easy-mac and tossed it into the microwave. Not the best lunch, but it was certainly easier than cooking. Perhaps, if I felt like it in a few hours, I'd make a nice dinner, but I doubted it. Especially after splurging on lunch. A dancer has to keep her form. Even if I don't try that hard.

I lounged across a chair and turned on the TV. There wasn't much good on, so I stopped on a replay of _The Day After Tomorrow_ on FX. FX really needed a better movie selection. I'm pretty sure I'd seen it six times this semester alone. I heard the ding of the microwave and hopped up to retrieve my easy-mac. I grabbed it, a fork, and a paper-towel and went back to the chair. I ate quietly for a few minutes and then remembered my laptop was on the table.

I opened it up and pulled up Facebook. I checked the same mundane things I usually checked, played a couple of games of bejeweled, and scanned through some new pictures people had posted. But after a moment, I got an idea. I mean, everyone had a Facebook now, right? I typed in Anton Tepes. To my infinite surprise there was only one matching name. There wasn't a picture though, instead there was just a strange crest symbol. It looked regal. I clicked on it anyway, thinking there was no way it could actually be him. Naturally, the profile was private. It had to be some sort of a joke, too. The location, interestingly enough, did say Chicago, but the date of birth was November 12, 1435. Sex was also male, but that didn't help much. Those were the only three things visible to the public. There wasn't even a tab for me to add friend.

Strange. I noticed that I could actually view a few photos attached to the profile. I clicked on that. Ten pictures came up. None of them had a person in them. They were all random, incredibly artsy and scenic shots of Chicago, ranging from parks to architecture. It would figure, too, that he would have a photographic skill, too.

After that I got a crazy idea. I opened up an academic article search website offered by my university and put typed in Anton Tepes into the search. Four hundred and thirteen results. I was stunned. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was showing results that contained Anton Tepes and not articles written by an Anton Tepes. I'm surprised. So I went to check out Wikipedia quick. A search for Anton Tepes didn't yield any tangible results; it instead redirected me to Vlad Tepes.

By now, as one can probably imagine, I was slightly confused. I pulled the academic search back up and clicked on the top article. It was titled 'The Wallachian Prince' and it was a historical article. Yet there were strange elements to it.

I skimmed the first few pages that referenced a few sources that claimed Vlad had a brother, and then there was something or other about some thing called damnatio memoriae or something and that the nearest they could find to a name for Vlad's brother was Anton. There were references to feuds with Vlad, and disagreements with other families, until Anton was forced out of Wallachia and sent to Italy. But it was all strange, and very weakly defended, and I'd have thought it a total hoax had I watched a program on the History Channel on it. Kind of like Ancient Aliens.

There were rumors he caught up with the Medici's and eventually returned to Wallachia at the head of an Ottoman army and was the one who would eventually kill Vlad. There was no evidence for this, naturally, just a couple of old, mostly destroyed records. One thing that was telling was that the author claimed that there were documents saying that those who saw Anton saw a younger Vlad. That Anton had not aged from the day he left, despite over a decade passing.

I couldn't help but laugh a bit when the author, at the end of his article, claimed that Anton Tepes wasn't far off of Anastasia Romanov. A historical enigma that will likely never be fully explained. I vaguely remembered something from a few years back about Anastasia, but didn't really feel like looking it up, preferring to remember the cartoon as fact.

For my next step I pulled up the search again, but this time I limited it to author search. Ten results. I took a very deep breath and looked again. Ten results of articles written by Anton Tepes. My heart sped up in my chest. Surely there would be some clue here. His dissertations had to have been published. The tagline on the first article nearly gave me a heart attack. It was a comparative analysis of John Donne's sermons.

He had mentioned Donne! I went to open it until I saw the publication date. 1932. My heart fell. It couldn't have been him.

But what are the odds? Someone else with the same name and similar interests? It had to just be a freaky coincidence. The next article on the list was from 1902. Yes, 1902. It was also about Elizabethan literature. Aemilia Lanier to be precise. It was probably the same guy. I clicked on the biographical section for the author. Four articles were referenced, including the first two that I saw on the search. They ranged in years from 1902 to 1941. Also, the section had a listed date of birth and death. 1875 and 1944. In the biography it said he was a professor at the University of Chicago. Chicago. Chicago. This was starting to get too weird.

Next, I did what all modern girls should do to their new crush. I Googled 'Anton Tepes Chicago.' It returned a brief biography of the Anton Tepes that was a Professor of English at the University of Chicago. There was nothing really interesting there. Total stub of an article.

I debated calling the university and asking about him, but I didn't know if that would do any good. I looked down a few more hits and found, strangely enough, a Dr. Tepes who taught European history at De Paul University about fifty years ago. There was an obit for this Dr. It listed his first name as Tony. He wasn't survived by anyone. Even if he was, I wasn't sure if I'd have had the courage to attempt to contact them, half a century later.

I started to get that that strange feeling that I was being watched. You know, like when you're doing something that you know you probably shouldn't be, and are afraid someone could come in at any minute. I closed my laptop and glanced toward the window. I could have sworn something moved outside of it. Absurd, really, being three stories up and with nothing to hang onto outside of it. A moment later the door to my dorm opened. I jumped. Naturally, it was only Sara.

"You slut!" she exclaimed upon entering. "How was he?" I wasn't sure whether I should be insulted or complimented.

"I didn't do anything with him, he just walked me to the bus stop," I replied carefully. I doubted she would believe that the most erotic part of the evening was a simple kiss on the hand. I barely believed it.

"Uh-huh, so that's what they call it now?" She teased. I was getting slightly annoyed, and I'm not sure why. In hindsight, maybe I should have been a slut, I may have gotten his number that way.

"Hardly, you were far more all over whoever you had at that table than I got with Anton," I said, crossing my arms and doing my best to look annoyed. Sara just laughed at me.

"Oh please, I didn't leave with him. In fact, I made a scene when he tried to grab my chest. But I got two free drinks out of it, so it worked for me," she said as she tossed her backpack down into the corner and opened the fridge.

"Well had you checked my room, you'd have noticed that I did indeed sleep here last night," I replied. "Grab me a Sprite?"

"I barely made it to my own bed last night. I'm such a lightweight. Had I tried to check yours I'd have probably wound up in it and really confused. Here." She walked over to me and handed me the soda. "You have plans tonight?" I popped opened the can. "Megan and I are going to go to Wrigleyville and see if we can con our way into a bar. You should come. Three pretty smiles are more efficient than two!"

"No thanks." I couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. "I have to be up early for work, I can't spend too much time out or get too drunk."

"Ugh, work. No thanks. We'll text me if you change your mind." She walked into her room, leaving the door open. Our dorm was probably the smallest multi-room apartment you'd ever seen. A tiny living area with half kitchen, and two tiny bedrooms with adjoined bathrooms.

The bedrooms felt more like a prison cell than anything, but we each had our privacy, which was incredibly nice to have. I went and found my own notebook and took out a class syllabus to see what reading I had to do for the next week. It didn't matter though, even as I tossed myself onto my bed and started to do my reading, I couldn't get the mystery of Anton Tepes out of my head.

I dreamed of him that first night. I'd never tell him that, although it would probably amuse him. I dreamed he came into my dorm and found me in my bedroom. I dreamed that he kissed me, over and over. Kissed me everywhere. I dreamed that we made love all night. That he couldn't get enough of me and I couldn't get enough of him. I dreamed of our bodies touching, my hands tracing over his body. His hands tracing all over my body. I dreamed wonderful dreams. I woke breathless in the middle of the night. I ached. I felt painfully empty, painfully alone. I ached for him. I groaned and pressed my head into the pillow and hoped that I wouldn't wake again before I had to get up for work. I hoped I would dream again.

The next few weeks were more of the same. I dreamed of Anton Tepes almost every night. And almost every night I woke feeling much the same. It was starting to be annoying. How could you want someone so much when you barely knew them?

I worked a lot. Too much. I hated the holiday season. I debated quitting and applying somewhere else come the first of the year, but I didn't want to risk being unemployed for too long. Tuition probably wouldn't be an issue, but there's only so much ramen that a girl can eat, and I was already dangerously close to that point.

I still had the problem that I felt like I was being watched, ever now and again, but I dismissed it as simple girlish paranoia. If anyone was ever watching me, they certainly did a great job at it because I never noticed a single living soul when I would look. But it still felt off. Like I'd walk out of work and just know I was being followed.

I'm also ashamed to admit that I did wander by the Ritz Residencies a few times. I peered in but saw no sign of him. Every time I felt weird doing it. Eventually, I changed my strategy and avoided the building at all costs. It wasn't that hard to do. Walking down Michigan Avenue, especially in the touristy season, was a pain anyway. Too many people feel that standing and staring at tall buildings is some form of travel. Irritating. Irritating to no end.

But, it was one such night, toward the middle of the month, when I walked out of work that I once again had that strange feeling that I was being watched. I shivered for a moment, and I didn't think it was from the cold. I gazed around the mostly dark, mostly deserted street. There wasn't anyone there. I shook my head, feeling silly for expecting something bad to happen, and walked to the bus stop.

I was running a tad later than usual, so it didn't surprise me, merely irritated me, to see my bus driving away. I knew it would be at least twenty minutes before the next one would show up. Those transit cuts really affected the late-night routes.

I figured that I could catch the train and get back to my dorm that way. It only usually took a little bit longer, and it may be quicker than waiting for another bus. Of course, I could get screwed and just miss the train too, but I was willing to take that risk.

I turned around and started to walk toward the nearest station stop. It was the red line on Grand. Only like four blocks away. I started to walk toward it. I still felt like I was being followed. But looking around just made me feel overly paranoid. It wasn't like I hadn't done this exact same thing a bunch of times before. Regardless, I couldn't resist and looked behind me. There wasn't anyone there. I kept walking, moving a little bit quicker.

I couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone there. I kept looking in different directions. I must have looked like a total fool. It was warranted though. I cut down Wabash avenue and moved down toward Grand. No one else was on the street. I stepped in front of an alley right behind Pizzeria Uno.

Something grabbed me then. I was pulled into the dark alley, back behind a dumpster. I wouldn't be visible from the street. I tried to fight, but that amounted to throwing my fists around randomly, not connecting with anything, and simply being forced, hard, into a stone wall. My head hit first.

It hurt, a lot, but I fought to remain conscious. Three pale figures stood around me. They all looked mean. There was one female and two males. I felt odd about that. Stories of rape and muggings were almost always all male assailants. One of the males spoke.

"Is it her?"

"I don't know, Claude," the female responded. "It looks like her, but they all look the same to me anymore."

"Oh stop being so melodramatic, Selene," the other male spoke. He looked at me, placing his hand under my chin and examining my face carefully, before pushing me back into the wall without a care. "It's her. He walked out of that café with her." I blinked. I looked at him more closely. He was the one who nodded at Anton as we left. I didn't know what to do. I was scared. I tried to speak.

"Please…don't hurt me," I stammered, feeling completely helpless.

"Quiet," Claude snapped and I simply shut my mouth, not sure what to do. It seemed that if they talked I would be safe for a little bit longer. But I knew this was it. They were going to do something to me. Something mean. And I wouldn't be able to get away. I slouched against the cold wall and prayed.

"Are you sure, Larson?" Selene asked. "You got a better look at her than I did."

"Yes. It's her, she even smells the same." The one who examined me, Larson, responded.

"She does have a good scent. Perhaps the Baron was saving her?" Claude said.

"I doubt it. I'm not even sure the Baron feeds anymore. He certainly doesn't drain them if he does. He's become obsessed with the masquerade," Larson replied.

"Well, boys, what do we do with her?" Selene asked. The two looked at her. They pondered for a moment.

"I say we drain her and drop her on his doorstep," Claude spoke. I didn't like the sound of that at all. But at least murder would be better than rape and murder. You know you've hit rock bottom when that's your main thought.

"No. That's too easy. Drain her and leave her outside of his office. The police will investigate his place of work more. That would really be inconvenient for him, and not much he could do without violating the precious masquerade," Larson said. The other two laughed at his plan.

"Oh yes, that would be fantastic for him." Selene said. "Teach him that the anarchs aren't simply going to back down. The Prince is gone, the Barons will fall." She sounded fanatical. That didn't ease my worry. I had no idea what they were talking about, and was annoyed, so I spoke up again.

Strange how much courage an impending death will give you. Makes one understand how those tragic historical figures can give famous speeches before their death. You really stop caring what they'll think about you.

"What are you talking about?" I asked incredulously. I wanted no part of this and I was sick of being confused.

"Oh how cute!" Selene exclaimed. "You don't even know what's going on. The first plaything he's shown interest in in over a century and you're clueless! Has he told you nothing?" Okay, that was annoying. I assumed the Baron they kept referring to was Anton, but that was an assumption. And I only talked to him for like an hour!

"Who are you even talking about?" I asked, trying to sound as annoyed as possible.

"Anton Tepes. The Baron of Downtown Chicago. The next Prince of Chicago. The Acting Prince of Chicago since the disappearance of Prince Strauss," Claude said with a haughty sense of superiority in his voice. The what of the who to the what? What were these people talking about?

"I have no idea what that means," I replied honestly. They looked at each other, then looked at me. Then looked at each other again. It was almost comical. They weren't sure what to do now, I could tell. They thought I was more important than I obviously was.

"He hasn't told you?" Selene asked.

"I talked to Anton Tepes for like an hour at a restaurant one night. I haven't seen him since!" I exclaimed. "He didn't tell me anything!" They looked worried now. I hoped they'd let me go, that it would all just be some sort of miscommunication.

"Larson!" Claude almost yelled. "You said he had marked her. That he was going to make her into a ghoul! That she would mean something to him!"

"Yes, now we're just going to kill some girl. Our entire plan is ruined!" Selene almost screamed.

"It looked like he was going to!" Larson argued. "I swear! I can't believe he didn't!" Wait. Anton was going to turn me into a ghoul? Nothing about that sounded pleasant. And they were still going to kill me? That's completely unnecessary.

"You don't need to kill me," I said. Well, begged would probably be more accurate. "I'm not going to say anything. I just want to go home."

"Sorry, darling, but that isn't how things works. You see, you know way too much. And if Anton came back for you at some point, you could tell him way too much. So, sorry, but you get to die. We'll make it quick. I promise," Selene said with a smile. A smile that indicated she had no intention of keeping that promise.

She took out a knife twirled it around her fingers a little bit. She stepped closer to me. Uh-oh. This was it. I never thought I'd die getting stabbed in a dark alley by a dumpster in Chicago. If they didn't need my body it would probably wind up in that dumpster. I wondered how long it would take for someone to notice I was gone. I felt bad for Sara, she'd probably be the one that would have to tell my grandmother.

"Please don't," I begged one last time. It couldn't hurt, right? Maybe there would be some sympathy in these monsters. That wasn't to be the case, though. Selene slashed the knife across my stomach.

It hurt. I gasped and looked down as the blood started to come. Tears welled in my eyes. It would take a long time to bleed out, I knew. She raised the knife again. Where she was going to bring it down on I don't know. I looked up into her eyes. They were demonic. Red. She was enjoying every second of this. A look of pure amusement on her face.

It was the last look her face would make. I watched, with a bit of surprise, as her head exploded. Exploded. You'd think that would be messy, too. But almost immediately after breaking apart in the initial explosion it just turned to dust and littered the entire area.

Seconds later the rest of her body followed. Claude and Larson jumped and looked toward the opening of the alley. I grabbed at my stomach, applying pressure to it, doing anything I could think of to stop the bleeding.

But I already felt light-headed. Everything was getting dark, and colder. I heard what sounded like snarling, and what could only be speech, but it wasn't in English. In fact, it sounded like Latin. I heard two more loud bangs. Claude yelled and started to jump up one of the buildings. Larson followed. I slouched against the wall more. Crying openly now. I couldn't feel my hands. Everything was cold. I felt a hand on my neck. Checking for a pulse. I could identify that, that was good, right?

"Shit," a soft voice spoke, obviously to itself. "She's not going to make it to a hospital." That couldn't be a good sign. Please. Help me..save me. I tried to speak. I'm not sure what came out, but it was enough to get a response of "shh, Bennevolyn, stay calm..stay quiet.." the hand slid to my chin. It forced me to look up. Gray eyes, staring at me, looking into my eyes. Trying to judge something. I forced myself to speak.

"Please…I don't wanna die," I stammered. He shushed me again. He pressed his lips together and stared at me. He then reached toward the ground and picked up the knife Selene had just used to slit my stomach open. He looked at me, his eyes telling me he already regretted the decision.

No. Don't hurt me more. Please. But instead he stabbed the knife had into his own wrist. He barely winced. He moved closer to me and whispered.

"I'm sorry, Bennevolyn. But drink. It will help. I promise." He pressed his wrist to my lips. Ew. Blood?

I went to protest, but that just opened my mouth and filled it with blood. My first reaction was to try to spit it out but he held my mouth shut. I swallowed. I wanted to puke.

Then I realized it didn't taste bad. It wasn't fantastic, sort of like v8 juice. That's an overused cliché. I wanted more. I'm not sure where I got the strength to force his wrist back to my mouth, but I did. He let me. I'm not sure how much time passed. It couldn't have been long, but I remember feeling better.

He made me stop. I felt warmer. My stomach still hurt something fierce. But I felt slightly more coherent. I remember moving. Slowly. He was holding me up and sort of against him, I could only presume to hide the blood.

He smelled wonderful. I wanted him. I needed him. I loved him. Wait. I don't know him. But he saved me. Yes, but I don't know him. Oh who cares. Did he drug me? I felt sorta drugged. I remember turning a corner. Walking. Turning another corner. Walking. And then being in a warm, much better lit room. A lobby? The warmth was nice. I heard a ding. Then remember feeling claustrophobic. A hallway? A door opening? Bigger rooms. Then, just something soft, and warm, and secure. At that point I blacked out.

Author's Note: When I wrote this, it wasn't divided in any way shape or form. I wrote sort of scenes that combined into a longer story. As I said before I have about 75,000 words done, although unedited. But because of the way it originated, chapter lengths are up in the air. This one is about half of the first one, largely because I'm just looking through points in the story and deciding that makes a decent chapter.

On a side note, all the places in this are actual locations in Chicago, except Anton's condo which isn't currently built (but the story takes place about ten years from now) and Bennevolyn's school, which is a mix of Loyola and DePaul, but doesn't get mentioned that much. The people, though, are entirely fictional.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit

Chapter Three

I regained consciousness slowly. At first, I thought I was asleep in my dorm. I took the fact that my alarm wasn't ringing to mean that I didn't need to be awake. I stretched luxuriously, feeling rather content. It took me a minute to realize I wasn't in pajamas, but rather in a full outfit, and that the pillows didn't smell right.

Really it's strange that it was the third thing I noticed that the bed was easily three times the size of my dorm bed. I sat up and looked around. The room was dark, it had to be night still. Or maybe the next night? What happened to me? The alley was a dream, right? It couldn't have been real.

I saw my jacket hung on the side of a chair. It looked normal enough, but it was black, and the room was dark. I noticed that I was wrapped in many soft blankets. They felt nice, but I was too warm under them. I pushed the blankets off and then gasped. Okay, so it wasn't a dream. My front was covered in blood.

You'd think that would bother me more. But I felt okay. I pulled my shirt up and examined my stomach. It felt normal enough. It looked mostly normal, too. There was a thin scar there. It looked like it was mostly healed.

How long was I asleep? There wasn't any evidence of stitches or anything. I got out of the bed and looked around the room. It was sparsely decorated. A wooden dresser, a night table with a book, and a lamp, on it. The book wasn't in English. I'm not sure what language it was in. Latin maybe. It looked old. Next to the book there was a folded note on a loose sheet of white paper. There was a small message on it, in an annoyingly nice handwriting.

_Bennevolyn,_

_I am sorry about the events of last evening. When I last checked you were doing considerably better. I suspect you will wake sometime during the night. I will not be around if that is the case. I would request that you do not leave the building until I have spoken to you in person about matters too important to discuss in writing._

_There is some clothing laid out in the bathroom. I am sorry that it is not much, I did not have time to do ample shopping. I hope it is sufficient._

_There are laundry supplies in the laundry room off of the kitchen if you wish to wash what you are wearing. The bathroom is the second door on the left. Help yourself to any refreshments you like. If you wake early dial *12 on the telephone and whoever picks up will fetch anything you could need. Again, I must suggest do not leave until you have spoken to me. I will return in the early A.M hours._

_Anton._

I didn't like that he had prettier handwriting than me.

But, I suppose, such was life. I had a hard time being annoyed at that. I wondered what clothing he had laid out for me. Then I wondered why I wondered that. My thoughts quickly wound up back on Anton. Something about it felt off.

I looked at his signed named on the letter and sighed a little bit. I felt momentarily like an enamored school girl. Then I realized that I kind of was an enamored school girl. If you can consider a college student to still be a school girl. But still, I could barely keep my mind off of him. Just the thought that he didn't want me to leave his condo was enough to keep me there. Forever. Until he told me to go. Then I would go. Maybe.

I shook myself a bit. I'm starting to sound a little creepy. I realized that I was still wearing my bloody clothing. That could be an issue. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light so I could see myself in the mirror. I looked like something out of Stephen King.

I was a tad paler than I remembered, but that had to be something with the lighting. But my otherwise white shirt had a large red stain all across the middle. My black jeans seemed to be okay. I'd wash them and make a decision on them after that. My shirt, though, I could already tell would be a lost cause. The slash through the middle, of course, being just as big of a reason as the giant stain.

I unbuttoned it and balled it up, tossing it toward the garbage can in the room. I missed. I turned my gaze back to the mirror and my stomach. There was blood all over my skin. I realized just how dirty I felt.

I noticed some clothing laying out in the corner, I didn't bother to inspect it yet. Mostly because I also noticed the large marble bathtub in the corner and I couldn't resist. I turned on the hot water and unhooked my bra, tossing it onto the counter. After that I peeled my jeans and panties off.

It occurred to me that I wouldn't want to get dried blood in the tub so I picked up a wash cloth and moved over to the kitchen sink. I turned on the warm water there and let it soak over the cloth. I brought it to my stomach then, and was surprised at how easily the blood cleaned off. It only took me a few moments to become satisfied with it.

I could really see the scar then. It was slight, and pink, and across my entire stomach, almost like an equator on my body. Looking at it sent a chill down my spine, so I looked away.

In doing so I turned my eyes down toward the counter then and noticed, lined up perfectly, a new toothbrush, a pack of razors, shaving cream, toothpaste, a box of tampons, hair ties, a hair brush, and a boxed hair dryer. All of which looked like they had been purchased recently. He certainly wanted to make sure I'd have everything I'd need.

I'm almost surprised there wasn't a curling iron. Then again, I don't curl my hair. Of course he didn't know that. Well, apart from the fact that it had been straight both times he saw it.

I turned back to the bathtub and noticed that he didn't spare any expense there, either. There were at least three different shampoos and conditioners, as well as multiple scents of bubble bath, exotic soaps that I recognized were from the soap shop Sabon that Sara showed me early in the semester, and other sorts of cleaning things.

It felt more like I was being pampered in a five-star hotel than recuperating from a knife wound. I grabbed some of the vanilla bubble bath and poured it into the tub. I stepped in myself then, slowly lowering my body into the warm water, not even bothering to put my hair up. The water felt wonderful. I just laid there, running the bubbles through my hands and soaking, closing my eyes and just basking in the warmth of the water.

I don't think I fell asleep, but I did at least zone out for a while. When I came to the water was starting to get cold. A large part of me wanted to simply turn the faucet back on and let more warmth fill into the tub and then doze off again. But the smaller part of me won out.

I lifted myself out of the tub and grabbed a towel. I looked in the mirror briefly and giggled. I was wonderfully covered in bubbles. I bet Anton would have loved it. Wait. Why did I care? What made me want to appear, clothed only in bubbles, in front of him? That isn't me.

I shook the thought from my head, quite literally, and toweled off as quickly as I could. I brushed my teeth, thankful that he picked up a toothbrush. I then moved to the end of the counter and examined the clothing he had purchased. I certainly didn't have to worry about anything to wear.

The amount of clothing he left for me was astonishing. First, he must have raided La Perla, there was one bagged filled with underwear. More types of underwear than I was actually aware existed. I grabbed two, inauspicious black things that must have been lingerie of some type, and slipped them onto my body. I looked in the mirror. I looked good. Not quite model good, but good enough.

I moved onto the rest of the clothing that was laid out. He had to be kidding. Designer dresses? I saw tags that made me hyperventilate. Gucci and Prada? What did he raid Niemen's? This wasn't going to do. Sure, I'd love to wear, well, all of them. Especially the dark green one with the belt. Bad Benne. But I'm not going out to dinner, to a cocktail party. I'm lounging around his condo until he decides to show up!

There was only one thing to do then. And I did it mostly out of spite. And I had to admit, I was rather amazed at my courage. Normally, well, not like I'd ever been in the situation before, but normally, I wouldn't have even fathomed it. But he had to have something more practical so I walked out of the bathroom and found his closet.

My findings weren't much better. Designer button-up shirts. Designer jeans. Designer pants. Designer shoes. A full closet of scary clothing. I blinked. I moved through it quickly. It took until nearly the end of the rack, but I found something suitable. A red Blackhawk jersey. At least hockey jerseys were heavy, big, and warm. It had a number on it. 81. And a name on the back: 'Hossa'. That didn't mean anything to me, but I pulled it on. It fell down to my knees, so I decided to not search for some type of shorts. I stepped out of his closet, slid the door shut quietly, and moved to the only other door in the bedroom. I opened it.

Wow. I had been use to my dorm room. And, while it surely computed with me on some level that the bedroom was larger than the entirety of my dorm room, I was not prepared for this.

I looked around. He had left the lights on, wherever he was. The condo had to be half a city block. I'm not even kidding. It was huge. I walked around it, slowly. There were guest bedrooms that were furnished, but I'd be surprised if anyone other than a maid had ever stepped for in them.

Of course, their existence made me wonder why he had put me in the master bedroom. But, perhaps it was just what he was the most familiar with.

There was a large kitchen. I realized I was thirsty, so I went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was filled, and insanely organized. I looked around. There was a shelf of Voss water. A shelf of soda and alcohol. All sorts of fruits and vegetables were worked in as well. The door cabinets were filled with white wines. I noticed a red wine rack out of the corner of my eye near the fridge. It was a pretty amazing fridge, to be honest. I grabbed a bottle of the water, feeling silly and pretentious drinking bottled glacial water, but it was the only water there!

I opened up the freezer to see if it was as equally stacked. There were a lot of those microwavable dinners, and a lot of weird pouches with a red liquid in them. Hospital like pouches. I closed the freezer. Blood bags? That's disgusting. I vaguely remembered drinking his blood though. That thought sent a shiver down my spine. But strangely, made me want to do it again.

And with that thought I scurried out of the kitchen, deciding it may be best to put as much distance between me and the freezer as possible. I saw my first clock then, hanging by what could only be the entrance to the condo. I assumed there would be a small lobby area and an elevator outside of it. The clock read 3:22 AM. So I had either slept for three hours, which seemed incredibly unlikely, or twenty-seven hours. That's a long time to spend unconscious.

I eventually found a room that would make any teenage boy squeal with glee. The largest television I have ever seen dominated the center of the room. Underneath it were all of the modern video game consoles. The shelves at the sides of the television were filled with blue-boxed DVD's and a mass of games. There was a comfortable looking couch in front of the TV. On the coffee table in front of the couch was a laptop and a couple of remotes, and video game controllers. It surprised me that Anton would have an interest in video games. But, I suppose everyone needs to pass time?

I lay on the couch and picked up the remote. It's amazing how bad television is at three in the morning. I ended up watching a Formula One race, which meant it had to be Sunday morning. I knew some of the racers, and a few of the teams, recognizing the staples, the McLarens and Ferraris. The cars looked so different than when I had last watched. But still, as I gazed at the screen, not really comprehending what was going on, none of that mattered. The engine noise was soothingly familiar. It reminded me of my father. Of days sitting on the floor, playing with dolls and gazing up at the television to see similar images.

He use to joke that he would make mother and I drive to Indianapolis for the 500, or the United States Grand Prix. It wasn't until years later that I realized they were two separate races. I missed them so badly. I wished I was a little girl again, cheering for Schumacher; the only racer who I could have identified at that point, and his pretty red car.

I clutched one of the pillows to my chest and forced myself to watch the final few laps of the race. I don't remember who won. I don't even remember where they were racing. It didn't matter. It just felt like I was sitting in my old living room, bonding with my parents again. It was a little bit of home I knew I would never experience again. The thought made me cry a little bit, but, by the end of the race, I was doing okay.

I must have fallen asleep again on the couch. I woke to a door closing, quietly, but not quietly enough to not stir me out of my sleep. It was still dark out, which led me to believe that morning had not come yet. I sit up on the couch and look toward the door.

Anton was there and I feet warmer all of a sudden. Happier too, and safer. It's strange how just the sight of him, when I still don't know him, can make me feel. I forgot for a moment that I consumed his blood, and that there were weird red packs of what could only be blood in his freezer. I couldn't help but smile at him. A wider smile than I remember having in a very long time. He looked at me quizzically before speaking.

"What was wrong with the dresses I picked out?" he asked, tilting his head a little bit to the side. It was cute, in a way. I felt bad for not dressing up for him. But they were so impractical! Wait, stop Benne, there's no reason to dress up for him. Just tell him the truth.

"They're completely impractical for sitting around the house," I said. And then added, "and each of them probably costs the same as my entire wardrobe!"

"Oh," was all he said. He looked me up and down as I sat on his couch. He frowned a little bit and I again felt like I failed him. But that was strange, because I shouldn't care. I frowned a bit and looked at him.

"I can..uh…change?" I asked carefully. He paused and looked at me, then shook his head.

"No, that will not be necessary. You should be comfortable," he said calmly. "This will be easier if you are not hindered by whatever outfit you have chosen to wear." I looked at him. How is one hindered by an outfit? That's just a strange a strange way to frame any sort of a statement. He walked into the living room and sat in a chair near me. His eyes locked onto mine for a moment.

"Okay. How was, uhm, whatever it is you did all night?" I asked, trying to sound innocent and slightly uninterested.

"It was fine. No different than usual, really. Work is like that." He said, looking at me, leaning forward in the chair. "I trust you didn't leave while I was gone?" He asked. His eyes glanced to the half-consumed bottle of water on the coffee table. He leaned forward, I half expected him to chastise me for having it not on a coaster or something, but instead, he took the remote and turned off the television.

"No. I took a bath, changed, and then just watched a little television before napping on the couch a little bit," I explained, feeling someone like a child being grilled on my actions.

"Good," he said. "It's best if you do not go out unsupervised at night."

"Why not?" I asked, half wondering if I was going to have to needle the entire story out of him.

"Because if you do there is a very strong chance that something similar to what happened to bring you here could happen again," he said.

"Getting mugged?" I asked. He smiled a little bit, a half-smile that indicated there may be a tad more to it than that. He was silent for a moment. I could tell he was sizing me up, debating what my reactions would be to his next bit of information.

"What do you remember, Bennevolyn?" he asked. I thought for a moment before I recounted.

"I left work. I missed my bus so I decided to take the train. I was walking to the station when I got pulled into the alley. There were three of them. Uh…Selene, Claude, and Larson I think were their names. They said something about a Baron, and a Prince, and all sorts of other things I didn't understand. They thought killing me would have some sort of an effect on you. Then they seemed to realize that we didn't really know each other. But they decided I knew too much. Selene took out a knife and slashed my stomach open." My hands fluttered to my stomach at that moment, for a brief moment I thought I could feel the pain of the slash again.

"She rose the knife to slash me again, but then she, well, I don't know, like exploded into a dust cloud. There were more loud bangs, and Larson and Claude fled. I hurt, a lot. And then you were there. I think I drank your blood. Then I woke up here." I recounted with as much detail as I could recall. He nodded along with my story.

"From what I can gather that is about what happened," he said. "Selene, Claude, and Larson are Anarchists. They have been an annoying thorn in my side. A thorn I haven't had much of a reason to deal with, but a thorn none the less, for the last few decades." His voice was calm. I looked at him.

"Decades?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes, decades," he said. "I'm not like you. It is because of that you were put in danger. It is because of that you did not bleed to death in that alley."

"You're going to have to explain this to me," I said. He simply nodded.

"I know. And I am going to. But you must accept that you live in a dangerous, scary world, much different than you expected." He looked at me when he finished speaking. I just looked back at him.

"I've just been stabbed in one of the safest parts of the city, by someone who appeared to explode into dust a few seconds later. I'm pretty sure I drank your blood, too. I think I can accept that easily enough," I said, feeling a little annoyed that he wouldn't just come out and say it.

"Well, you did. That is what saved you. You see, vampire blood has a sort of healing quality when ingested by humans. It is rather amazing, really. It can heal just about any physical wound. Sure, things like a gunshot to the head are out, but stabbing? That's easily taken care of," he explained. He looked at me for a moment, to gauge my reaction.

"Wait, you're a vampire?" I was astonished. They didn't exist. Yet it all made some sort of strange sense. And when you realize that it all makes some sort of strange sense, you also realize you've read too many bad romance novels.

"Yes." Was his highly eloquent response.

"So your blood healed me?" I asked. Part of me couldn't believe it. Part of me told me it was completely impossible. But another part of me disagreed. That part remembered the pain of being stabbed, and how my stomach looked almost as good as new now.

"Among other things, yes," he replied, still looking at me like he expected me to really lose it.

"Other things?" I asked.

"Yes, but we will get to those. For now you must understand everything. There is an entire society you must learn of." He looked me up and down again, his eyes lingering for a tad longer than I liked on my legs.

"Well, tell me about it then," I said, shifting so my legs were tucked underneath me.

"It goes back thousands of years. Long before I existed. So long that the origins behind it are more myth then fact. So long that research is nearly impossible. At least accurate research. Although thousands of people have tried." He started slowly, like he wasn't sure how he wanted to continue the story. I just nodded along with him, figuring that for now, it would be best if I didn't speak, and simply let him explain.

"Regardless, vampires exist. We all manifest differently. Which I suppose should be expected, given that all humans are different. Most of what you know about us is fiction. There are some commonalities. Some myths are of one specific vampire, and their specific manifestations. When it comes right down to it, the only similarity we have is that we need to drink the blood of humans to survive." He paused, looking at me. I mulled that over. I suddenly was afraid, very afraid. Was I the menu? That wouldn't make sense though. Why bother saving me, and buying things for me, if he was just going to kill me?

"I'm not the menu, am I?" I asked timidly. He laughed.

"No, you're not. Although you do smell delicious. And I would be lying if I said I would not fancy a taste." The way he spoke made me shiver.

"But, wouldn't it kill me?" he shook his head.

"That's mostly a myth. It could, in theory, but I am far more disciplined than that. While we do need human blood to survive, we do not need massive amounts of it. Kind of like how you could probably eat an entire thing of cookies, but settle for one. Some of my kind claim that they do, but personally I feel that they simply enjoy it more than they should. Excessive consumption leads to violent and disturbing acts usually. Something most of us try to avoid. It is strange how much more human you feel when you act more like one." He trailed off. I could tell he was pondering something in his mind.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with all of this?" I asked, gesturing to everything around me.

"Oh. Yes. Well, you see our society prefers our secrecy, for understandable reasons," he said quietly. "We tend to flock to cities, simply because there is more of a population from whom to draw sustenance. In order to keep our existence a secret we request that all of our kind abide by something we call The Masquerade. It is pretty simple, really. Do not do anything that will endanger revealing what we are to the general public. It is much harder than in the past. The mass-media technology age certainly is not my favorite. But it is still entirely possible. Most of the major cities are divided into segments. Each segment has a Baron, in charge of enforcing the Masquerade in that segment. The Barons report to a Prince in that city. There's a convocation of elders in Europe that attempts to control the various Princes, but they usually do not succeed."

"What happens to those who don't follow the Masquerade?" I asked, but I had a pretty good idea of what the answer was going to be.

"Death," he said blankly. "Our existence is dependent upon not being known. We will ensure that we remain hidden by any means necessary."

"I see. And when I was being mugged, and they talked of a Baron?"

"That would be me. Anton Tepes. The Baron of Downtown Chicago. I am in charge of policing the general vicinity of downtown. Of course, the boundaries were laid out in the 1930s, and it has since expanded greatly, but we make due," he said with a slight smile.

"And these Anarchists you spoke of?" I asked. I was thinking of more questions as we went, keeping them labeled in my mind.

"Ah yes. They are a relatively new, and relatively small faction of my kind. They believe that the Masquerade is outdated. And that being superior, we should rule humans, and be allowed to do whatever we like. Their goal is mostly to rid every city of its leadership. They've had relative success in Los Angeles, but the segment there at least understood the importance of secrecy. And the Prince of L.A set up many nonsensical rules for vampires to follow. In other cities they just want a large feeding ground."

"And is that their goal here?" I asked. I recalled that they were going to use my body to draw police attention to Anton. That made a bit more sense now.

"I am not sure. It certainly is starting to look that way. But my resources to track them are limited. I have assumed Prince Strauss's responsibilities since he vanished. Some of the Barons disagree with that and have been fighting me for the powers. Self preservation has been a large concern of mine." He spoke calmly, like it wasn't perhaps as big of a concern as he wanted me to think.

"So…?" I asked, not sure of what to say, but I wanted him to continue explaining things.

"So during the midst of all of that I stopped bothering to policing the Anarchists. I let them do what they want, as long as they do not commit any major violations of the Masquerade. I assumed they were going to be okay with that. However, that appears to not be the case." He explained. I looked at him.

"Yes, apparently not. But why is secrecy so important. If you can heal people with your blood?" I trailed off, my question lingering in the air. I hadn't really thought about it. He laughed slightly.

"Because if humans found out they would try to round us up. Or kill us, or use us to heal all of their problems," he said, his voice filled with disdain.

"Ah yes. That does make sense," I admitted. "But aren't you stronger, and faster and all that jazz?" I may have been drawing too much on vampire myths.

"Well, yes," he said. "But that was more of an advantage back before automatic weapons. We are still killable. And we are much more mortal now than we were a hundred years ago. If humans really were interested in hunting my kind, they would be able to do so quite efficiently. In fact, some humans do, but mostly in Europe," he explained.

"Oh, I see. I guess that makes sense. So the stake through the heart is out?" I asked, attempting to sound like I was teasing. He smiled.

"Well, that would kill me just as readily as it would kill you. But a bullet is more efficient. Has to be well placed though, right through the brain usually. Much like I did with Selene."

"I see. What about sunlight?" I asked.

"Depends on the vampire. Personally, I think that the more time they spent outside during their life, the less the sun affects them. The ones that popularized the exploding in flames and such were all from the eras where people sat around in their house nearly all day. That being said, it does burn. Going out in the sun feels much like getting burned. It's tolerable after a while, but something we prefer to avoid. Hence why the greater majority of us are nocturnal."

"That makes sense, I guess. Do you sleep?" I needed to dispel all of the myths that I had about his kind. It was bothering me a little that I was just believing him, too.

"Yes, but less than a human. I can get buy mostly on naps. Typically I stay awake for three to four days and then sleep for an entire daytime period. That tends to keep me as rejuvenated as I need to be," he explained. I looked at him for a moment, composing my next question in my head.

"What do you do during the day otherwise then?" I was curious. He smiled.

"Nothing that much different than anyone else. I read, I write, I play video games, I go out. I rather enjoy afternoon baseball. I people watch far more than most. Sit outdoors at cafés in the summer," he shrugged and continued, "I rather like clothing, too, I like to design and dress models. Well, female models." I nodded when he finished speaking.

"But didn't you just say being outside during the day was unpleasant?" I asked

"Well yes. It is painful. But like most painful things you can eventually build up a resistance to it. It still burns, and can surprise me at times when I am caught off guard. But it is not so bad when someone is use to it. And shade is not difficult to find in Chicago. Most of my kind just do not bother to try. Mostly because many of them are not sure if they will die when they step into it," he said.

"But you do get your nourishment from blood?" I asked.

"Not exclusively. Although that is an option. However, I have always been a bit of a glutton. I rather like the way food tastes. I can still consume human food. Not in very large quantities before my system rejects it. But well enough to taste and enjoy it. Although, I suppose if you preface the question with nourishment, blood is the main source of that." He suddenly looked almost hungry. I looked at him.

"And you can feed without killing?" I asked.

"Yes. Easily. In fact it is typically safer. The victim rarely remembers anything, probably from the blood loss, and typically just go on their way a few minutes later after recovering," he said.

"Wow. I can't believe this is all true. You're a vampire ruler of Chicago? You can go out during the day, but you do still feed on blood. And somehow because of this you saved me?" I asked, thinking it all over in my head. Part of me really wished I was sleeping, and that I'd wake up in an emergency room somewhere with my stomach bandaged. Another part of me knew that wasn't going to happen.

"That would be a fairly succinct version of it, yes," he replied.

"Wow." I said dumbly.

"You're taking this surprisingly well. Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked as he stood and moved toward the kitchen. I thought about it for a moment before responding.

"Yes, white please," I yelled after him. He returned a moment later with two glasses of white wine. He handed one to me. I sipped it cautiously. It was surprisingly delicious. "Thanks," I muttered as he sipped his.

"You're welcome," he said. I saw him take another sip and then I thought of another question.

"Are the rules with drinks the same as with food?" I asked. He swallowed the sip of wine and shook his head.

"No. Interestingly enough my body does not reject any kind of drink. Most even have a similar effect on me. Caffeine is much the same, although it requires a much higher dosage. The same is true of alcohol. Again, it is not the same for all of us, but I have no limitations that way. Which is probably why I am such a wineo." It took me a moment to realize he was making a joke. I smiled a bit.

"That's interesting. And all vampires are different?" I asked. He'd said that but I still found it hard to believe. He nodded though.

"Yes, as different as humans are. Well have our quirks. There has been some research into what has caused the differences in all of us, but it has been unsuccessful. The answer could probably be found somewhere in genetics, but no one has really looked too deeply yet," he responded, sounding like he half wanted to get a degree in genetics and do the research himself. It occurred to me then that I really knew next to nothing about him.

"How old are you?" I blurted out without realizing it. "If you don't mind my asking."

"I was born in 1435," he said. I blinked a little bit at that.

"I told you twenty-four was bullshit," I said.

"Well, more or less," he replied. "I was changed in 1459. So I was twenty-four at the time. However, it's merely a coincidence that my current forged identification is that age."

"So you are _the _Anton Tepes, and the stories are true?" I asked. He shook his head.

"I am Anton Tepes, younger brother of Vlad Tepes, but a large majority of the stories are simply that. Some basic facts are right, yes. Like the fact that Vlad and I did not get along, and he tried to have my memory damned and all references to me deleted. He did a rather good job of it, too," Anton laughed. It was nice to hear him laugh. He had a nice laugh. He had a nice voice. I gazed at him and then momentarily felt like a love-sick puppy. That bothered me so I forced myself out of it.

"Well, what happens now?" I asked. And I was confused. I didn't know what would happen. I half expected him to have to kill me.

"You state that you understand that you are now privy to the Masquerade and any violation of it will likely result in your termination," he said quite blankly. His lack of change in his expression indicated to me that he was serious.

"I won't tell anyone," I said timidly. He nodded.

"I know. Not for a while at the very least. I have told you not to," he said softly.

"Wait, what?" I asked. That sounded like I didn't have a choice in the matter. Like even if I had wanted to betray his secrets I would not be able to.

"It has to do with how I saved you, and how you ingested my blood," he explained softly. I sensed that he paused to let me think over exactly what he was saying. I swallowed at the comment, and got the sudden urge to drink some water to clean the imagined metallic taste out of my mouth.

"You've mentioned that. But you haven't explained it yet," I said quietly. "I mean, thanks for saving me and everything. But…well..what happened?" He looked at me for a moment before speaking.

"When one of my kind shares his blood with one of your kind the humans becomes what we refer to as a Ghoul," he paused, I cringed at the word, he seemed to know I would and then continued. "It's not ghoulish in any sense of the common usage. Your appearance won't change. You will; however, gain slightly heightened reflexes and senses. On top of that, you will crave my blood. It has an additive quality. But the reason that most vampires create ghouls is that they are naturally subservient." He finished, looking at me from across the table.

"What?" Well, that explained why I had wanted to please him so much. "You save my life but only to make me a slave?" I was rather annoyed at that. But I couldn't be nearly as angry as I wanted to. Somehow, I knew that was because he didn't want me to be angry, and I simply couldn't. It was even more infuriating. Yet, I couldn't get mad. He seemed to sense my inner turmoil and spoke.

"Let it go, Bennevolyn," he said calmly. I glared at him. I did manage to calm myself. It only took a few minutes. But I was still furious at the concept of being controllable.

"But that's so wrong!" I argued.

"It is. It is why I hesitated to change you. I do not like the concept. However, it is not quite as bad as it sounds. Ghoul compulsion is not a form of dominance. If you truly do not wish to do something, you will not. Most of my kind keeps ghouls around to run errands during the day, or things of that nature. Most rely on the fact that the human becomes addicted to it and will typically gladly oblige. But, unlike most addictive substances, a few months without it and you will not even remember what it was like."

"I guess that isn't so bad," I said. "But you still haven't really answered my other question. What happens now?"

"Well. Unfortunately, you do not have many options," he said. Standing as he did. He reached toward his long-forgotten wine glass, next to mine, on the table, but didn't take it. I didn't like the sound of that.

"Well, what are they?" I asked.

"You stay here," he said blankly. I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"That's hardly an options," I said, crossing my arms and doing my best to look completely and utterly annoyed.

"Well, your other option is to leave and act like none of this ever happened and see how long it is until Larson or Claude find you," he said, raising his eyebrows as he did. I had to admit that didn't sound like a very pleasant option.

"Oh. That doesn't sound any better," I said quietly, feeling like my entire world was crashing down around me.

"Your options are not pleasant, I will admit. However, if you want to live, you are going to have to stay under my protection."

"But if the Anarchists wanted to harm you, wouldn't going after someone under you protection do that?" I asked.

"No. A large segment of the population actually thinks I am doing a fantastic job. If you are directly under my protection they cannot harm you, because they would lose a great deal of support from moderates," he explained.

"Oh. Wow. It really is politics, isn't it?" I asked.

"Essentially, yes," he responded. He was silent again. He certainly didn't seem to like speaking much.

"I don't want to give up my life," I said quietly. It wasn't much, sure. I was mostly alone, worried all of the time, and desperately missed my family, but it was still a life.

"I can understand that," he said softly.

"But I don't want to die either. And I do rather like you. I sort of stalked you, you know. Couldn't believe I didn't give you my number," I admitted, blushing a bit. He laughed softly.

"If it is any consolation, I would not have called," he said. I laughed a little bit.

"Well you have a legitimate reason to not call, being a vampire and all," I said in a weak attempt at levity. I sighed then, and looked at him for a moment. "What would I have to do?"

"Nothing really," he said. "You can still go to school, although I suggest you do not spend any night time hours in your dorm. You can still work, but if you work nights you will not leave the store until I pick you up. Your social life will be rather limited. During the day you will be free to do what you like, but at night you should not go out without me. It could be dangerous." He seemed annoyed at the half-consumed wine glasses, so he picked them up and walked out to the kitchen. I heard him cleaning the glasses as I contemplated my future. It didn't sound that bad, really. He didn't seem like that bad of a guy, and I really did want to get to know him.

Perhaps it wasn't the fairy tale way to start a romance, but it was certainly better than being imprisoned in an enchanted castle like Belle. Still, I was annoyed because I couldn't tell if it was me that wanted that or the strange compulsion thing he had mentioned. But, I did want to get to know him better before all of this. And he was absent now and thus he was giving me no indication of what he wanted. Perhaps that meant it was all me thinking about this, and not some mystical vampire power. He walked back into the room a few moments later.

"Are you going to like, force me to have sex with you or anything?" I asked timidly. Hey, I felt it was a very legitimate concern. He chuckled under his breath.

"No. Any sex will be purely consensual," he said, smirking a little bit as he did. I couldn't help but blush.

"Oh. Good. Vampires and humans can, right?" I asked. I could tell I was blushing even more.

"Yes. But be warned, sometimes we bite," he teased. It was my turn to laugh.

"Well you said that isn't always fatal, so I suppose as long as I live through it," I let my voice trail off. After a moment of silence we both laughed. And then I smiled at him and he smiled back at me. We both knew my decision then.

"So you're going to stay." It may have been framed as a question, but it certainly wasn't one.

"Yes, it's worth a shot," I replied. He smiled again. And when I looked at him I realized just how exhausted he looked. I wondered when the last time he slept was.

"Good. If you don't mind I'm going to forgo the tour until later in the evening. I haven't slept in five days and that is a bit much, even for me. We can discuss more arrangements tonight. Help yourself to a bedroom," his voice was still calm, and I could sense he was trying to be gracious, but he was too tired. Looking at him, I was amazed that he had lasted this long. I wondered what he had been doing that night. I looked around briefly, and saw the sun was rising over the lake. It was then I first saw the gorgeous lake view that dominated the eastern half of his condo. I gasped a little bit and heard him chuckle.

"Oh wow," was all I managed to say. He laughed a little more.

"Yes it is something. Now if you'll excuse me." He moved toward the bedroom I had emerged from just a few hours earlier.

"Wait. What should I do now?" I asked, unsure what was expected of me. He looked back over his shoulder at me and spoke quietly.

"It's daytime. Bennevolyn. You can do whatever you like." And then he stepped into the bedroom.

Author's note: Not much to say about this segment. I am; however, probably going to screw around with some other stuff before posing more of this. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit. Also this chapter is the first chapter I've posted on FF that actually earns the M rating. There are fairly graphic scenes of a sexual nature to follow. So be warned and what not. They're also fairly poorly written, but hey, I tried.

Chapter Four

I blinked a little bit, thinking about his last comment. I could do whatever I wanted during the day time? Well, Benne, what was it you wanted to do?

I walked around the condo twice, gazing at everything. I realized not too long later that I was also exhausted. I wanted to sleep. It had to be the loss of blood and recovering. Or maybe that I'd been rather lazy of late. Bad form for a dancer, but it happens. I looked in the other three bedrooms, sizing them up. But that wasn't what I wanted. I hoped he wouldn't mind. I snuck as quietly as I could into his room. He was already asleep, curled on his side in the mass of blankets he considered a bed. I looked at him for a few moments. He gave no indication that he knew I had entered the room. Somehow, I doubted that was the case.

I stifled my own yawn and pulled off his Blackhawk jersey. I hung it back up in the closet where I could find it, as quietly as I could. I was struck with a problem then, as I stood there. The only nightwear I had was the rather skimpy underwear he had left me. And that was what I was standing in here in his dark bedroom.

I sighed. I wasn't going to go on a quest for a nightgown, or dig through his closet for sweat pants or something. I doubted he had any anyway. I crept over to the bed and lifted some of the blankets up and slid myself under them. I was on the opposite side of it as him. I felt his body shift, relinquishing some of the blankets to me, but the motion caught me off guard. I half expected him to be mad at me. Instead, I just heard a soft whisper.

"I was hoping you'd join me." His words disappeared into the darkness. I felt rather happy he wasn't mad. That feeling also caught me off guard but I responded as best I could.

"Yes well, I'm exhausted too, and this bed seemed likely to be the most comfortable," I replied, trying to sound casual. Hoping that like in many of the myths he couldn't hear how fast my heart was racing. If he did, he gave no notice. Instead, he rolled toward me. His arm wrapped around me and pulled my body to his. His skin, as I've mentioned, was not warm, but it was far from cold, and it felt nice. The heat trapped by the blankets didn't hurt, either.

"Well, I think it is," he whispered, "and since we're both exhausted, let's sleep." With that he smiled at me, his breath was tantalizingly hot on my lips. So hot I almost moaned. And then he did it. He kissed me. So very softly on the lips. It was so brief, and so innocent, and even almost chaste. But he kissed me. A sign that he wanted me. He tasted wonderful. I couldn't help but kiss him back the same way. Then, he pulled me tight and kissed my head. A few moments later I was asleep. It was the first morning I would spend in the arms of Anton Tepes.

When I awoke I had that strange feeling, you know, the one where you don't want to be awake, but you know you should be, and that all sleeping more will do is give you a migraine? And that despite the fact that every instinct you have is telling you to get up, all you really want to do is roll over? Well I had that.

I also didn't know what day it was either. I think it was Sunday still, which was good as it meant that I hadn't missed any classes. I realized that my head wasn't resting on a pillow, though, but rather what appeared to be a chest. It rose and fell steadily with his breathing. I let out a soft sigh. Then, I realized that his surprisingly soft hands were tracing up and down my back. My completely bare back. I could feel that I was still pressing forward into a bra, so he must have unhooked it. I should probably be more concerned about that, but it felt nice. I moaned somewhat blearily at the touch and whispered quietly.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"About four," he responded. I could vaguely hear the sound of a revving engine on tv. He must have been watching a rerun of the race I had watched earlier.

"In the afternoon?" I asked dumbly.

"Yes," he chuckled a bit. "You did not sleep another entire day away."

"Well that's good. I said, sighing contently and burying my face in his neck. I couldn't help but trace my lips over his skin a little bit as I did. He tasted wonderful. I can't quite explain it, but it was very nice. Like something you've been craving for a very long time. He let out a soft sigh as I did it too, which was nice to hear. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not very long," he said, his hands tracing wonderfully up my spine. He started right at the small of my back, just above my panties, and very slowly traced his fingers up over the bone, right up to my neck. He'd moved my hair off to the side. "A half hour, tops. I did not want to wake you. You looked very comfortable." He then moved his hands down my back, sliding away from the spine, down to my panties. I shivered a little at his touched and pressed my body into his without realizing it. "And, I was quite comfortable myself as well." I couldn't help but giggle just a little bit at that. He let out a soft groan as I did. Perhaps he rather enjoyed having me giggle against him.

"Well. That's nice of you," I said, wiggling my body against him to see if I could get some sort of reaction. He groaned again. Well, that was certainly some sort of reaction. A very pleasant reaction. I realized I rather enjoyed being in bed with him in the middle of the day. Of course, I wasn't quite thinking about what exactly that could entail if I so wished. At least not yet anyway. It wasn't like I'd, well, ever, spent the middle of the day in bed with some guy.

"I thought so too," he responded, his hands pressed a tad harder into my back, as if he were trying to push me closer to him. I smirked a little, my face still buried in his neck. I kissed it softly. He rested his hands on the small of my back then, moving his index fingers in small circles there. I groaned softly into his neck.

"Well, what should we do today? Or should I say tonight?" I asked carefully. I didn't want him to think that I thought I had some sort of claim to his time. But I did want to spend more time with him. I leaned up a little bit, so I could look into his eyes and gauge his reaction. His gray eyes locked onto mine for a moment, and he smiled at me. But then the slid down a little bit.

"Well, I am going to admire those for a moment, and then we can go from there," he said calmly. I could feel myself blushing furiously. I'd completely forgotten that he had unhooked my bra. I let my body fall back against his, mostly missing my bra, and blushed furiously.

"Oops," I said quietly. He just laughed again.

"Oh come now. I was rather enjoying that show. They are very nice, you know," he said as he resumed running his hands up and down my back. I stayed silent for a minute, just blushing and feeling extremely embarrassed for no particular reason.

"They're kind of small," I muttered meekly, not sure why I said it. It was strange. I mean, I wanted him, but still, that was embarrassing! And I probably shouldn't have taken his comment as a compliment like I had.

"I like them," he responded quietly.

"Thanks. I think," I managed to mumble after a few moments. He laughed softly again and I felt his hand slide up my back and into my hair, which had fallen loosely around me when I let myself fall down.

"You are welcome," he said softly as he twirled my hair through his fingers. "I rather like your hair, too, Bennevolyn. It's very silky." I blushed a little more at this compliments. They were nice to hear, though.

"Thanks," I muttered again. We were silent for a moment then, his hands still sliding through my hair.

"Bennevolyn," he said, after a moment.

"Call me Benne or Lyn, please," I interrupted, even though I could sense he wanted to say more. I enjoyed my full name, sure, but I liked shorter versions of it, too.

"Alright, Benne," he said quietly. I rewarded the use of a nickname with a small kiss on the neck. He sighed contentedly at that before continuing. "Come here."

"I can't get much closer to you, Anton," I replied, kissing his neck once more. He laughed quietly and pulled me up a bit. My bra fell loosely onto the side of the bed as he did. He knocked it away with one arm. I stared into his gray eyes then. His head was propped up on the pillows, his hands rested in the middle of my back, entwined in my hair. My body fit wonderfully against his. My hands slid around his sides for a moment. I realized he was simply wearing a pair of athletic shorts, and that he was really enjoying this position. I shifted my legs a little but so I was almost straddling him and pressed myself against him. I couldn't help but moan a tad as I did, staring into his eyes. He moaned right back and I felt a lot more attractive than I had in a very long time.

"I disagree," he whispered. I couldn't help but think that perhaps having me so close to him, and rubbing against him, made him unable to do anything more than whisper. I was going to grind myself against him a little more, but then he kissed me. It wasn't like the kiss the night before. This kiss was full, and deep. This kiss went to my very core and made me ache for him. I couldn't do anything during this kiss. I was paralyzed by the passion in his lips. I melted into it. When he finally parted his lips from mine I did the only thing I could think of.

I kissed him back. I kissed him just as deeply. His arms enclosed around me. He held me against his body and we simply kissed, over and over again, losing ourselves in each other's lips. The kisses gradually became more physical, too. I noticed his hands slid down to my waist and held me down against him. I ignored his touch though, and started to grind against him. We both moaned, softly at first, but gradually much more loudly. I felt the arousal coursing through my body. I ached for him. I stopped moving when he finally pulled his lips away. His hands fell off my hips then, too. The blankets around us were annoyingly warm, but I didn't want to lose them yet. We were both panting. He started tracing his hands up my sides, sliding them carefully around the sides of my breasts, then around my shoulders before sliding them back down my back.

"Mmm. That was nice," I said softly. He nodded a bit.

"Yes. It was," he replied and gave me another soft peck. I returned it. "We should probably get out of bed now, though," he continued. I frowned a little bit at that, pressed myself against him and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Why?" I half asked half whined.

"Well, we may get carried away if we stay in bed," he said simply, tilting his head to look at me.

"I'm only wearing a pair of panties," I said as expressionlessly as I could. "I think we're already carried away." He laughed a little bit.

"That may be true. I do not want you to do anything you may regret," he spoke softly. I laughed a little bit.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Anton," I said, pressing myself to him again, and moaning softly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice sounding overly careful. I shifted myself so I was straddling him and sat up, letting the blankets fall off of my body. I leaned forward a little, to give him the best possible view. His hands found my hips again, and traced slowly up my sides a little bit.

"I'm rather sure, yes," I said softly and pressed myself down onto him. He groaned, very, very loudly. He sat up then, forcing my legs to wrap around him as I wound up in his lap, and he kissed me again, very deeply. I lost myself in his kisses then. I barely noticed his hands sliding around my back and into my hair. I did notice, however, when his lips shifted down to my neck and shoulders, and how he sucked gently on my skin. I was afraid, for a moment, that he would bite me. But he just sucked gently on my skin, moaning softly into me. I shivered and moaned myself. I barely noticed as he switched to the other side of my neck. Somewhere, it should have probably registered to me about hwo dangerous this situation could be. But I didn't care. It felt so good, and he was enjoying it, and I was enjoying it.

I did notice when he flipped us over, though. My head landed perfectly on the pillow, his weight landed perfectly on me. I loved it. He kissed me again, losing himself in my lips as I lost myself in his.

"Mmm, Benne, you taste wonderful," he whispered into my ear as he shifted my hair away from it and kissed it softly. I shivered at his wordst as he slowly started to kiss down the side of my neck. His lips felt wonderfully soft on my skin. I slid my arms around him and just reveled in the feeling. He kissed down my throat, tracing his tongue gently over my skin as he did. Then his mouth was on the tops of my breasts.

"Oh…mmm," I gasped as he started to kiss them. My hands slid up his back and into his hair. He kept kissing me, kept sucking gently on my skin for what seemed like an eternity. I was half-delirious with pleasure. I vaguely remember moaning his name on occasion, and vaguely remember him responding. Eventually, he kissed down to my stomach. He lingered there for only a moment, before kissing his way back up to my lips. He kissed them softly and I moaned into his mouth. He kept kissing me. I noticed one of his hands was sliding down my stomach.

He kissed my lips again, shifting a little bit so he was laying mostly next to me rather than on me. I groaned at the loss of his warmth on me, but my frustration lasted only a moment. He traced two fingers down my stomach and over my panties. I groaned loudly. I hadn't realized until he touched me just how much I had craved his touch. He rubbed me then, though the silky fabric. I couldn't help but spread my legs a little bit and groan. His lips were close to mine then.

"Hmm," he whispered. His breath was hot on my lips. "I love your body, Benne." He smirked and kissed me once more.

"Mmm," was all I could stammer, staring at him. He just smirked then and pulled his hand away. I groaned and lifted myself up at him. I was going to protest, but he started kissing me all over again, and I lost that train of thought.

I regained it when his lips traced over my stomach. I looked down at him as he hooked his fingers into my panties and pulled them down off of my body. He kissed his way, naturally, back up my leg, kissing my thigh softly. I could do nothing more than stare down at him, my hands sliding into his black hair.

He teased me then. Teased me every way he could think of. I loved it. And I loved that I could tell he loved it. I couldn't imagine doing much more than laying there, letting out soft noises I'd only ever made by myself before, and wondering if it could get any better. And every time I thought that, it did.

Eventually I managed to slide my hands down his back and pulled at his athletic shorts. I wasn't in much of a position to do anything about the problem they presented. Mostly because they were still on him. But he moved off of me for a moment, much to my groaning dismay. At least until he took them off. I admired him then, really for the first time. He was in incredible shape. I wondered if that was because of his condition, or if he still worked out. He certainly had enough time, it wouldn't surprise me. He looked like a one of those ancient Roman marble statues. Except, or course, he still had all of his limbs and a nose. Oh, and he was much more endowed than those ancient statues. He crawled back onto me. I kissed him this time, very deeply.

"I want you, Benne," he said. His voice was filled with desperation. He was breathing nearly as hard as I was. I moaned softly at his voice, my hands were tracing over his muscled back.

"I'm right here, Anton," I whispered. I did my best to sound as seductive and alluring as I could. I was amazed he wanted me. I wanted him too, really badly. After what he had done for me I'd have done almost anything. I was nervous though, and unsure of what to expect. He just groaned and stared into my eyes. He kissed me again. During the kiss I felt him shift, and a moment later he entered me. We each moaned at that moment. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck. My legs quivered and I couldn't help but raise myself up against him. He was big and it hurt. But, at the same time, it felt so perfect. I felt full. I felt loved. I felt complete.

"Oh Benne," he said quietly after a moment, with my face still buried in his neck. He seemed to realize it then. His voice was filled with wonder. He slid his arms around me, holding my body up against his. I kissed his neck softly, once. I think he understood. He started moving, so very slowly. He shifted moved me a little bit in his arms so he was staring at me. His eyes were wide with amazement. He kissed me again, and then we stared at each other as he slid out of me and every so slowly back in. We shared a few more soft kisses before I spoke.

"Anton…faster please," I gasped. I could feel my pleasure building more and more. He obliged. Yet, he kept the tempo slow. He kept moving in and out. After a few moments I started raising my hips to meet him. Our arms remained wrapped around each other. We made love like that for what felt like an eternity. Slowly reveling in each other. I marveled at the complete feeling he gave me. I no longer felt empty. I had him. He was mine. The slow tempo wouldn't last, though.

I knew I shouldn't have given in so easily. But I wanted him so very badly. And he wanted me. And I knew he wanted me. And it all felt so wonderful.

I kept moaning his name, and grabbing at him, never wanting the moment to end. I loved the way he sounded in response. Moments later he pushed me over that edge. Again, I yelled. My arms and legs squeezed him. I felt his body tense and I loved it. I gasped for air. He moved to slide out of me but I shook my head and said something I meant to sound like 'uh-uh'. I'm not sure if it came out right, but he got the message and simply lay on me for a moment. He rolled us over after a little bit of that and once again I lay with my head on his chest.

"You're amazing," he whispered softly, kissing the top of my head. If I wasn't already flushed from our activities, I may have blushed.

"Thank you," I said. "You too." And then I closed my eyes, meaning to rest for just a moment, but sleep enclosed upon me once more, the last thing I remember was another kiss on my head, and a soft pair of hands sliding up my back.

I awoke again, later in the evening, but this time, I was alone in the bed. That was slightly disappointing. I curled myself into the blankets for a few moments before deciding I should actually get up. I didn't want to think about how much I've slept in the last two days. I eventually managed to crawl my way out of the bed.

I worked my way to the bathroom. I was sore, surprisingly sore, but sore in a good way. I decided to shower. His walk-in, yes, walk-in shower was easily as luxurious as his bath tub, and just as stocked. I spent a while playing with the soaps and body washes, and then experimented with the shampoos and conditioners. It was soothing. And made me forget that his stupid shower was bigger than my entire dorm room. I figured I should shave, so I did. After, I noticed he'd left more clothing out for me. There was a Victoria's Secret bag filled with some much more normal underwear than he had left before, and a couple of Bloomingdales bags with more casual clothing.

I quickly threw on some underwear and shifted through the new bags. It was probably wrong of me to be excited at someone buying clothing for me, but for some reason I was. It was probably because of that silly bonding thing he mentioned, and somewhere I probably knew that he wanted me to be excited, or that just maybe he was excited, so I was.

I stopped breathing at that thought. How much of what we'd just done had been that? Was it what I wanted? He'd claimed he couldn't coerce me into acting. But that hadn't been like me! What if I didn't really want him? But you know that's not true, Benne, you had all those dreams about him! I pressed my lips together and shook my head. No, I knew I wanted him. And I didn't regret the afternoon.

The contents of the bags were rather standard and I settled for a pair of fashionable jeans and some overly artsy t-shirt. It was purple, with embroidered designs on it. I liked it because I thought the offset angel wings on the back were cool. Both fit annoyingly well. It struck me as somewhat odd that he was better at judging my size than I was. What, did he measure me while I slept? Either way, once I finished dressing I walked back through the bedroom and into the condo.

It took me a moment to find him. He was sitting at a computer in the corner of a room that looked like a Victorian style library. At least how I imagined a Victorian style library. There were large bookcases, filled with mostly very old books, although I noticed some new ones mixed in. He seemed to have them organized by author, but I didn't spend long enough looking around to check.

He was sitting at a computer, typing up something. I was struck by how fast he could type. The clicking of keys was just incredible to listen to. Over his shoulder I could see text spilling onto the page at a rate that made me envious. I wasn't the fastest typist in the world, but I was faster than most, and he completely shamed me. I walked up behind him and looked over his shoulder, attempting to read the text of what he was typing. It looked like an e-mail. When I was just a few feet away from him he spoke.

"Evening, Bennevolyn," he said quietly, continuing typing while he did. The first thing I noticed was that it was fruitless to try to read the e-mail from the start, because his typing caused the text to rise off the screen too quickly. I gave up.

"Hello," I said dumbly, not sure what else to say. I squinted a bit more at the screen and then asked, "What are you doing?"

"Typing up an e-mail to some allies of mine," he said softly. He continued typing for a few more seconds, before scrolling up to the top and re-reading the text. It took him very little time to reread the text of the e-mail. He then sent it and turned in the chair he was sitting in to look at me.

"Oh, uhm, about?" I asked quietly, wondering if I was asking questions about things I shouldn't.

"You, mostly," he responded. He looked at me for a moment. "I see you found the other clothing I left out as well. I'm glad it is more to your liking."

"It's all to my liking," I said quietly. "But you don't need to just buy me an entire wardrobe. I have clothing back at my dorm."

"Ah, yes. We should probably go and pick some of that up," he said quietly. I blinked a little bit.

"What?" I asked dumbly. He smiled reassuringly at me though.

"Well, I was under the impression that you were going to be spending a great deal more time here. I figured you would have things that you would like to bring here," he spoke softly, looking at me.

"Oh yes, I suppose. My class work and some clothing at least," I replied, thinking it over in my head. "When could we pick it up?" I asked, vaguely remembering I had so not done my reading for the next week of classes.

"Tonight, if you like," he responded.

"That would actually be rather wonderful," I said.

"Well then, grab your coat and let's go," he said, standing and walking out of the library. I followed after him, mostly because I wasn't sure where my coat was, and the last time I had it on I was bleeding all over it. After following him out into what appeared to be the foyer of his condo I finally asked.

"Uhm. I don't know where my coat is. And wasn't I bleeding all over it?"

"Oh yes," he laughed quietly. "That's right. You were, but it cleaned up very nicely." He took a familiar black coat off of a hanger near his own and handed it to me. I inspected it. It looked as good as new. I was surprised it wasn't damaged. Then I noticed something and shook my head.

"This isn't my coat, Anton," I said. He winced.

"How can you tell?" I he asked.

"The tag is perfect. I accidently tore it a few weeks back when I was hanging it up," I said, reminding myself of the rather dumb way that I damaged my coat. He sighed a little bit.

"Alright, I did buy you a new one," he admitted. I nodded a little bit.

"Why lie about that, though? You've already spent a small fortune on random things for me, why lie about buying a jacket?" I asked, rather confused about the whole situation. He shrugged.

"I don't know," he said.

"That's a terrible reason," I replied.

"Yes, it is. Mostly, had you not decided to say, it would have seemed like something that was yours. So you wouldn't have felt it a charity," he explained. It was still a bad reason, if you ask me.

"That's still a pretty terrible reason," I said. "And besides, did you think I wouldn't stay?"

"I didn't know what you would decide to do. I planned for various options," his voice was rather toneless. It was strange to listen to. I couldn't help but wonder if that was how he thought, so dry and monotonous. Like he calculated everything.

"You didn't seem to give me much of an option," I pointed out.

"Correct, but that's because the alternatives would have had very bad consequences for you," he said. "And I didn't want that." I blinked. Did that mean he really did care about me?

"You care that much about me?" I said, looking surprised. "I mean, couldn't you just go make someone a ghoul and bam, companionship?" I was rather surprised I'd worked up the courage to ask that one. He paused for a moment before he answered. I took the lull in the conversation as time to slide the new jacket onto my body. It fit exactly the same as my old one, which made me feel a bit better.

"I hate ghouls," he said quietly. My face fell. I think he could tell, as he led me out into a small hallway with an elevator. He hit the button and the elevator chimed instantly. We stepped into it. He noticed my expression again and said, "Don't take offense by that. Most act like drug addicts. It is nothing more than a sick form of slavery. I did not want to see you hurt, but in doing so have arguably taken your life." He pressed one of the elevator buttons and I felt it start to move. I paused for a moment.

"I don't think I'm dead. I would have been had you not come around. I think you saved me," I explained. And that was what I did think. If he hated the concept, and I was being compelled to do what he wanted, wouldn't he hate me, or I hate him? Oh who had any idea of this mystical shit anyway?

"You're very kind," he said softly. "One day, you may not be so charitable with me. You're being led into a life that is rather unpleasant." I scoffed.

"I watched my parents die in a car accident, Anton. I have very few friends. I spend most of my time with my grandmother, who is practically in hospice care. I rather like you a lot, and I want to spend more time with you. And you're just going to have to deal with that," I said as fiercely as I could. He smiled a little bit and the elevator stopped. So I lied a little bit. I hadn't actually watched the car crash. But my imagination ran wild with the topic on many nights.

After a few moments we both stepped out into an underground garage. He walked up to a very pretty silver car. It had a pitchfork on the hood, and pitchforks on the headrests of the leather seats. It looked very fast. I wanted one, and I don't even like cars.

"Well, we will see what happens, then, Benne. I hope taking care of the anarchists does not take too long, and you can return to your life," he said, walking up to the car.

"I don't really like my life all that much, Anton," I said, trying to sound annoyed. He nodded a little bit and stopped next to the driver's side door.

"We'll see what you think in a few months," he responded. I stuck out my tongue at him because it was the rudest, most un-ladylike gesture I could think of. He laughed. I sighed, then asked.

"Can I drive?" He looked at me for a moment.

"Do you know how to drive stick?" he asked, opening the driver side door.

"No," I admitted, frowning a little bit.

"Then no, you may not drive," he responded, getting into the car. I frowned and entered the passenger side, sitting beside him and trying my best to sulk as he started the car. It had a very nice purr.

"You could teach me!" I said as he started to pull out of the garage.

"I could. And will if you would like me to. However, not in this Masarati," he replied then smiled over at me. "Where am I going?" It took me a minute to realize what he was asking.

"Oh, just get on Lakeshore Drive, I'll tell you when to get off," I responded. He followed the command, being less annoyed at the traffic than I probably would have been were I the one driving the sports car though the city. "Will you really teach me?"

"If you like," he said.

"I would, I think," I said. I actually wasn't sure. It wasn't like I had a car. "I don't have a car though. Well I do, but it's in my Grandmother's garage."

"I have plenty of vehicles, if you need one," he said.

"How many is plenty?" I asked carefully.

"Five."

"Are they all this fancy?" I asked as he diced expertly through traffic on Lakeshore Drive.

"No," he laughed quietly. "Most aren't. This and the Bentley are my show cars. Oh and the Lotus is rather nice, too. And the Aston I guess. Other than that, I keep pretty typical things for a mostly low profile." I didn't bother to comment that if he had five cars and he just listed three as show cars, well, that seemed to me like they were all that fancy.

"I'm almost surprised you don't have a driver," I laughed, thinking anyone who owned a Bentley probably had little interest in driving themselves. I mean hell, I didn't even know what a Bentley looked like, but the word just had that connotation.

"Oh I do. But only for special occasions." It sounded like he was joking. But I just couldn't tell. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if the wasn't. I just laughed with him.

"Oh, next exit, then take a left," I said as I realized we were coming up on my dorm. He followed the instructions perfectly and it was only a little more until we reached my dorm.

I had to check him in at the desk, which was slightly annoying. The girl working the desk eyed him rather a lot. If they had records, they knew I had yet to ever check someone in. She probably wondered what the hunk was doing with me. I was starting to wonder the same thing. I took him up to my cramped room and felt embarrassed at the mess. I felt even more embarrassed when Sara jumped to her feet, wearing a t-shirt that was far too tight, and very short athletic shorts and yelled.

"Oh my God, Lyn, where have you been!" she then saw Anton and blushed furiously. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. Sara was better looking than me. What if Anton liked her more? Luckily, he spoke for me.

"Bennevolyn ran into some miscreants as she was coming home from work on Friday. They roughed her up pretty badly. I insisted that she either go to the hospital, or let me make sure she didn't have a concussion or anything. So she spent the last two days with me. I am sorry if it caused you to worry. I should have asked if she wanted me to call anyone," he said and half bowed graciously. Yep, it wasn't hard to tell he was from another era. Sara just looked at him and then said carefully.

"Oh. That's nice of you," she paused and then seemed to register his words and stared at me. "Wait! You got mugged? Oh my God, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. She looked me up and down.

"I'd say, you barely have a mark on you! You're so lucky!" She continued to inspect me. I decided it was probably best to not mention that I had almost bled to death on the street.

"Yes, Anton showed up at the right time," I said quietly. Sara's glance shifted to Anton. He was wearing black jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, under his black, military-style jacket. She was clearly impressed.

"Anton, eh?" She said, holding out her hand. "I'm Sara, Lyn's roommate. He shook her hand politely.

"Anton Tepes," he responded. "And it really wasn't anything, Bennevolyn. We're both just lucky I managed to intimidate the thugs and get you out of there." I nodded a little bit at his words. I wasn't sure that shooting a vampire's head off qualified as intimidation. But if that was the word he wanted to use, so be it.

"Well thanks for protecting my friend," Sara said with a fake smile. "I appreciate it, but I can take over from here." I got the distinct impression that she wanted him to leave. That annoyed me so I decided to speak up.

"Actually, he wants to keep me under his watch for a few more days, so I've just stopped by to pick some things up. He insists it's that or a doctor, and you know how I hate missing class," I said with a fake shrug. She looked at me skeptically.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Lyn?" she asked. Her asking annoyed me more, mostly because her tone was that of a jealous rival rather than a concerned friend.

"I'll be fine. Anton has already shown he's quite the gentleman," I replied as snottily as I could. I walked into my room then immediately after. I heard Sara say something to Anton. He replied in his quiet, almost uncaring manner and then joined me in my room.

"Your roommate is interesting," he said diplomatically.

"Annoying," I corrected. He smiled.

"Yes, a little bit bothersome, but I trust she means well," he said.

"No, she's just jealous that I brought an attractive male back to my room," I replied.

"Well that may be the case too," he admitted. "We could do something to really make her jealous, if you like." He smirked wolfishly. I shook my head.

"No, packing now," I said. He laughed a little bit.

"Alright, I'll help with that then. What do you need?" He asked.

"Just grab my school stuff from the corner over there." I gestured vaguely to where I remembered putting it last. He moved into the corner and, not only started to gather it up, but organized it quite nicely. I was impressed. I pulled out a small suitcase I had. I'd last used it for weekend trips home, something I hadn't done all semester. I started packing some of my favorite clothing items into it. It didn't take us long to finish. He grabbed both of my bags then, and we walked out, exchanging just a quick good bye with Sara. He tossed both bags into the trunk and we both got back into the car.

"So, can I ask what the e-mail was about?" I asked. The question had been bothering me for a while.

"The what?" he asked, sounding like he wasn't sure what I was referring to.

"The e-mail you were sending earlier, right before we left."

"Oh, that was about you," he said. I nodded a bit. He'd established that. Getting specific information out of him wasn't the easiest thing in the world.

"Me?" I tried to sound surprised, it didn't seem to work.

"Yes. I was sending it to the vampire community of Chicago."

"The vampire community of Chicago has an e-mail address?" I couldn't help but laugh at that one. Here I expected like messenger bats or something.

"We're very technologically advanced," he said with a smile that indicated he was actually joking. "But yes, it is a much easier way of staying in touch. What did you expect we turned into bats and went scouting for each other?"

"Well, yes, or something cooler," I admitted. "Wait, can you turn into a bat?"

"No." He laughed. "But some of my kind can. Not always a bat though. It's a dying art, however."

"If you changed me, would I be able to?" I asked, perhaps sounding too excited.

"That would be very unlikely," he replied.

"Oh," I frowned a bit. He seemed to catch it.

"Vampires tend to take after their creator. As I do not have that ability, it is unlikely you would if I were to change you," he explained. I nodded a bit.

"Oh, well, what superpowers would I get then?" I asked. He sighed.

"My kind do not have superpowers," he said, I rolled my eyes and he continued. "But I am rather durable. As I mentioned before I do not suffer from any of the commonly associated things that ail vampires. You would likely be the same."

"That's still cool," I said. "Durability is useful."

"If you insist," he responded.

"I do. No more rolled ankles or being sore all the time after dancing!" I responded as jovially as I could. He shrugged a bit, but with a cute little half smile, and I couldn't help but wonder if he even remembered such minor maladies.

"Well it is, now back to this e-mail," I insisted after a few moments.

"Oh. Well, I mostly just said that I have a new ghoul. That she is under my explicit protection. If anyone harms her, I am likely to see that their entire coven is destroyed. Then I explained the circumstances by which you became my ghoul, and asked for any information about Claude and Larson."

"Oh. Well. What are you going to do if you get any information about them?" I asked carefully.

"Kill them," he responded almost immediately and with no emotion.

"Is that necessary?" I asked. It felt strange, having him so focused on murdering someone for me. Of course they had tried to kill me.

"Yes." He said simply. "They have violated a main law, and must be punished."

"Oh, well then. What if the other vampires don't like it that you've killed them for me?" I asked carefully. Other vampires seemed like something I should be worried about.

"Most will be happy that the Anarchists are dead. There are very, very few that actually care about that cause. And by destroying the three main proponents of the cause, the rest will fade away for a century or so," he said, turning the car back onto Lakeshore Drive.

"Oh. Okay. Won't they come looking for me then?" I asked.

"In a century? If you are still alive, then you are likely to be with me, and if you are with me, they will not attempt to harm you. If not, then you have likely lived your life," he answered. I frowned a little bit.

"I see. Is there anything else I should be worried about?" I asked quietly.

"Other than spending your time with a powerful vampire who thinks you would likely taste especially delicious?" he asked.

"Yes, other than that. I was actually more concerned about our activities earlier," I said quietly. I'd noticed a box of tampons in my bathroom back at my dorm and had been feeling rather silly about it since. Here I always insisted I'd never be stupid enough to have unprotected sex, and already I was oh for one in the department.

"Oh. No, you have nothing to worry about from me there. If you decide to pursue my life, then that will change, but, for now, you do not need to worry, no matter what teenage literature you may have read a decade or so ago." His voice hid a joke. I could sense it.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing. It is just that one author got it completely wrong. We are incompatible. We are essentially a different species. However, if you were changed, that goes out the window. Everyone assumes we are dead. That is true in some technical sense, but not entirely. We just age much, much, more slowly. We can still reproduce; just the chance only comes around every couple of decades. Just like our hair and fingernails still grow," he explained. I laughed a little bit, remembering a vampire story I was infatuated with as a girl.

"Well that's good to know," I said. He nodded a little bit. We were silent for the rest of the trip. We didn't speak again until we entered the condo, when he asked.

"What time do you have to be up for class tomorrow?" He asked. I saw it was nearing eleven on his wall clock.

"Well, with the trip up to campus, probably ten at the latest," I said, glad I had scheduled mostly late morning and early afternoon classes. He nodded a little bit.

"Alright. What would you like to do before bed then?" he asked. It was strange to hear him ask that, like he wasn't certain how to act around me.

"Well, I haven't eaten in a long time," I said, and I was growing hungry. He laughed.

"To the kitchen then!" he said and we both walked there. His food supply was rather limited, but he did have some microwavable things mixed in with the blood in the freezer. I picked an orange zest chicken meal and nuked it. He sat and chatted with me while I ate. It wasn't very good, but none of the microwavable meals ever are. Regardless, I enjoyed it.

After that we moved to his couch, and he held me while we watched boring cartoons on TV. I suppose I shouldn't say they were boring, some of them were funny, but we mostly just talked. I'm not sure exactly when I fell asleep again, but I doubt it took me very long.

Author's Note: I should probably say, if I haven't already, this story actually takes place in the future. I don't have a specific year, but probably around 2018-22ish. Most of the Chicago locations are accurate, but a couple are under construction at this very moment.

Anyway, thanks for reading, I appreciate it. The best way to contact me is usually by PM on the website. I respond to every PM I receive, in a fairly prompt manner. I try to respond to most reviews too.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit. I also have no beta, so mistakes are my own.

Chapter 5

The next few weeks passed rather quickly. My life didn't change as much as one would expect. I was much happier, though. I went to class in the mornings, and worked in the afternoons. I spent part of the night with Anton, and part of the night sleeping. He usually didn't join me, but I often woke in the morning with him passed out on the bed.

Sometimes we both had nights off. Those were the best nights. He spared little expense with me, too. He dragged me to restaurants all over the city, despite barely eating, under the pretext that he had always wanted to, but didn't want to alone. I saw through his act. It wasn't very hard to do. I started to feel more like myself around him, though. Despite claiming that I should really watch what I eat more or I'd have to run like five miles a day to just stay at the weight I needed to be to dance.

Speaking of dance. I wanted to dance more. I threw myself back into my dance classes. It was liberating. I wanted to go to raves again. It wasn't something I thought I could ask him to do though. At the very least, I convinced him that I needed different clothing, and I wanted more of a say in it this time, so we had agreed to go shopping together. I probably shouldn't have, well, done that. But he seemed really into clothing and my wardrobe had become depressingly normal.

I wasn't sure if Bloomingdales would have quite the selection of clothing I was looking for, but I went to meet him there after my hair appointment anyway. I was planning on lopping off most of my hair, but instead, mostly because he said he liked it long, I was just going to get it thinned and trimmed. I figured I'd surprise him, too. I had the stylist do something I hadn't had done since high school. I didn't know if he would like it. But he could deal with it if he didn't.

I arrived at Bloomies well before he did. I stopped at the little café in the lobby and indulged myself on some over-priced chocolates. I had to fight the urge to even go look in Gucci, mostly out of fear of what he may attempt to buy if he found me in there. After, walked up to the 'contemporary adult' section. Such a silly name if you ask me, but it was at least stuff designed for my age group. I started to look through it and was pleasantly surprised to find that it had things in my style. I grabbed started looking through the racks. It only took a couple of seconds for a salesperson to approach me.

"Can I help you find anything?" she asked, doing her best to sound cheerful and interested. I recognized the expression. I'm sure I've worn it several times myself.

"I'm waiting for a friend. But could I get a fitting room?" I asked, taking a few shirts off of the track.

"Certainly, let me take those," she took the clothing from me. "And I'll go set it up. Let me know if you need anything else." She scampered off toward the fitting rooms. She came back a few minutes later and we repeated the drill, this time with some jeans and belts. A few moments later, as I was looking through clothing that was a tad too preppy for me, he arrived. He saw me and I smiled at him. He blinked a little bit and I blushed and looked away. A moment later he was at my side.

"You dyed your hair," he said.

"Well, streaked," I said. "I use to do more things like this when I was younger. Figured it was as good as time as any to try again," I said, blushing a bit. I was worried he didn't like it. He raised a hand into my hair and twirled one of the small streaks a little bit.

"It's blue," he said dumbly. I was slightly impressed. I did something that left Anton Tepes speechless.

"Well, a navy blue, yes," I said. I picked the color knowing it would blend in with the my black hair, unless it reflected just right in the light. He looked at it for a moment. Then he let his hand slide out of my hair. He walked around me. Looking at me from each angle. Occasionally, he shifted his view so he would have a different light, then he stopped in front of me.

"I love it," he said simply and I couldn't help but smile.

"I'm glad," I said. "I was starting to feel a little too normal. Work will be mad, but you'll buy me whatever I want, right?" I smirked at him. I'd never actually asked for anything monetary yet. Well except for the shopping trip. I was bad at this. To my infinite relief, though, he just laughed a little bit.

"Well, within reason," he replied with a smirk and it was my turn to laugh.

"What's within reason?" I teased.

"Keep it under a hundred thousand?" he deadpanned. It was my turn to laugh.

"For most people that would be well above reason," I commented.

"Most people have not had nearly seven hundred years with which to accumulate their wealth," he replied with a slight smirk.

"So you've been saving your money since you became a vampire?" I asked, actually curious of the answer here.

"No. I did not really start saving until I came to Chicago and helped with the founding of the city," he said quietly. I blinked.

"Wait. When I said my interest was in origins of cities and specifically Chicago, you said that you had nothing to contribute on the topic. And now you let slip that you have been in the city since it was founded?" I was slightly annoyed at him for that.

"Well, I came in around 1835, so a few years after, I believe," he responded.

"So you could tell me all sorts of interesting things about the founding of the city." I tried my best to sound annoyed he kept this knowledge from me.

"Probably no more interesting than a newspaper article," he said. I sense it wasn't something he really wanted to discuss. So far, he had been pretty forthcoming with my questions. I decided to pursue it further.

"Is this a touchy subject with you?" I asked, carefully. I think my words sounded bitchier than I intended.

"Slightly," he responded. He had a tendency to give one word answers. I wonder if that was how all pretentious royal vampires talked with each other. That had to lead to some incredibly boring conversations.

"Why?" I asked, smiling up at him as cutely as I could manage. He looked at me for a few moments.

"It was not the best period of my life, Lyn," he said rather sternly. I frowned and he looked at me for a moment. "I will tell you later. If you like. But this is not the best place for that conversation."

"I would like that," I said. He hadn't told me much about his history. I made a mental note to grill him on that at some point.

"Now, I believe we were supposed to shop," he said.

"Oh, I've already picked out most everything that I liked. I figured you would probably hate shopping as much as the next guy. I just need to try it on," I replied.

"Oh…" he said, sounding slightly disappointed.

"You enjoy shopping?" I asked.

"I like dressing people," he responded. I blinked. That was slightly strange. But I suppose we all needed our hobbies. He looked at me for a moment, and seemed to be able to judge what I was thinking. "I know it's strange, just something I've always liked to do."

"Well that's interesting. But we agreed that this was so I could pick out clothing and have some choice in the matter. Being a doll is only fun for formal occasions," I said carefully. I really agreed so I could get a less formal wardrobe.

"Yes, I know," he said. I nodded.

"Good, so I'm going to go try things on. If you like you can come and watch and judge," I said with a slight smirk. That seemed to perk him up a little bit and we wandered into the changing room I had prepared. I stripped to my underwear and started trying things on. He noticed a pattern almost immediately.

"Going punk?" he asked.

"I guess a bit," I replied. "My friends and I used to call ourselves Ravers. But we were very tame."

"Really?" he sounded rather curious.

"Yes. We used to go out and dance the night away. Fast dance music, wonderful moves. It was a blast." I sighed, changing into a different outfit and admiring myself in the mirror for a moment.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We grew up, mostly," I replied.

"There is more to it than that," he said. He was partially right.

"Not really. We went to different colleges, we gained other interests. Then, when my parents died, I just gave up on it. I stopped wanting to really do that," I explained, pausing a little bit. I wondered if I'd be honest if he asked me another question about that.

"Why though?"

"Oh you know. I felt I had to be more responsible," I lied.

"Responsibility does not equate to stopping what you enjoy," he said. He was annoyingly perceptive. Must come with being ancient.

"Well. It's complicated," I said, my stomach knotting. "And it's kinda dumb."

"Bennevolyn. I am a very old vampire. Things don't get much more complicated than that. Tell me," his words were harsher than his tone. I sighed a little.

"My parents called me the night they died. They were hammered. They were driving home. I almost told them to stop, pull over, and that I'd come get them. But I didn't. I wanted to get to the party to dance with my friends. I brushed them off a bit. The next morning I find out that they died. I haven't wanted to dance much since then," I said quietly. His arms just enveloped me and he whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But –"

"Don't," I interrupted. "I know it wasn't my fault. They had done it before. It wasn't overly unusual for them, as terrible as it sounds. But I still feel like I should have done something. But, I can't turn back the clock. I've accepted that. It took a long time. But they would want me to live my life, and be happy. And that's what I need to attempt to do. Dance makes me happy." I pressed my head into his chest. He was silent.

I backed away from him and returned to trying things on. He commented on what he liked and what he didn't. What he liked far outweighed what he didn't. In the end, he bought everything I liked. It was strange, having him so freely spend money on me. Part of it felt wrong, but if I tried to protest he just looked at me like I was crazy. He had it shipped to him. Yes, he had it set to be shipped to his condo, which was five blocks away. Oh well, I suppose that made it easier than carrying it back? I guess we had planned on doing something after shopping, and it beat walking around with a bunch of bags.

"Well, what shall we do for the night?" he asked. I still wasn't quite sure what his work consisted of, but it was the first night we both had completely off in a very long time. I looked at him as we stepped out onto the street. Only one thing that I really wanted to do, especially with him, came into my mind.

"I want to dance," I said simply. And I did. He looked at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he smiled, fully.

"I know just the place."

And that was how we found ourselves walking to a club he knew. I'd never heard of it.

"What is this place called again?" I asked a few blocks into the walk. He smiled and shook his head slightly. It was at least the third time I'd asked the question.

"Sanctuary," he responded.

"Why can't I remember that?" I asked, shaking my head, he just smirked a little.

"Not a clue, Lyn," he said. "It's only a few more blocks." We kept walking, and sure enough, he was right. Just a few blocks down the road there was a line outside a building. The bouncer looked menacing. He was very big and clothed in all black. I hadn't been in this general area in a very long time, but I never remembered there being a club there. I should be more observant.

"I've never been here," I said. My experience with Chicago clubs was rather limited though. "Any reason why you chose it?"

"It is safe, for my kind," he replied.

"And some places aren't?" I asked, wondering how a place could be unsafe if everyone thought you were a myth.

"Very few." He smirked. "It depends on the area, mostly. Some places still believe in us. But not many."

"So why is it important that this place is safe?" I asked.

"It is a haven for my kind. It is run by one of my kind. The bouncer is one of my kind, and many of my kind come here," he explained. I nodded a little bit, feeling slightly nervous at the prospect of meeting his kind.

"So is that why you're bringing me here?" I asked.

"Partially," he said. "It will be good to have others of my kind see you out with me. It will enforce that you are under my protection.

"So it's a political move?" I asked. Anton shrugged.

"In a sense. However it is the best place to dance, I'm told. Not being much of the club-going type. We shall find out," He said quietly. I moved toward the line, but he took my hand and walked past everyone. There were some glares, but the bouncer just looked at him and asked.

"Is everything all right?" I could sense fear from the bouncer. It was strange. He associated Anton's presence with something terrible. That was strange to me. So far he'd done nothing I would consider even vaguely mean. But I was reminded that there was an entire world I wasn't quite aware of. Anton, however, just smiled.

"Nothing at all, Bruce. Bennevolyn here simply wanted to dance tonight. I figured that Dalia would be glad to finally get me into her club." He said. The other vampire nodded.

"So this is the one you e-mailed about?" he asked, eyeing me up carefully.

"She is," Anton replied quickly. Bruce looked at me a bit more.

"You have good taste. Dalia will be disappointed though, she had some type of royalty in the 'Anton Tepes dating pool,'" Bruce joked. Anton smiled a little. The conversation had quickly become more joking. I was surprised. Bruce's earlier trepidation was completely gone.

"And you had?" Anton asked.

"I had 'never,'" Bruce replied with a laugh. After a moment he spoke again, "Would you like me to tell Dalia you're here?"

"I am sure she will find us eventually. There is no need to bother her prematurely," Anton replied. Bruce simply nodded.

"Well head on in then. Always a pleasure, Anton," the bouncer said. Moments later the two of us walked into the club. It was large, there was a bar near the entrance where many people sat. The dance floor was rather packed and dominated most of the central part of the room. I felt embraced by the loud techno music. I looked up at him and asked.

"What was that all about?"

"Bruce was just surprised to see me. I tend to not frequent places like this unless there is some sort of thing I need to take care of. Which usually involves punishment," he raised his voice so I could hear over the music. It was the loudest I'd ever heard him talk. After a moment he added, "Would you like a drink?"

"Not until we've danced!" I smiled and started dragging him toward the floor. He was slightly skeptical, but followed. "What was with the pool though?"

"Oh. That's slightly embarrassing. I spend a lot of time without, well, companionship. Many of my kind started a pool that was about what type of person I would eventually wind up with," he explained with a weak smile. I was slightly intrigued.

"And what do I count as?" I asked.

"Beats me. I believe they will probably fight over that for an extended period of time. Of course, some will argue it does not count if there is not a ring on your finger," he said. I blinked a little bit.

"Is that a possibility?" I asked. He laughed a little bit as we stepped onto the dance floor. I pulled him through the crowed to a position near the middle and very slowly started to give myself to the beat.

"That would be up to you." Was his simple reply. He was clearly clueless about how to dance too. I smiled a little bit at him, moving my body with the beat, pressing up against him very lightly, and backing away, letting the music control me. There was nothing formulaic about my steps. My dance professors would be ashamed of my lack of a plan. But dance was about the music, about losing yourself to it. He matched me, as best he could. He was a relatively quick learner. I kept dancing.

"Well. I'll have to think about that one," I joked. He laughed.

"Yes. That is something that would require much thought." He said. We were silent then, for the rest of the song. He learned how to move with me, how to be closer to me. It was fun. I could tell he was uncomfortable. I couldn't help but be slightly proud that I could make him uncomfortable with something as simple as some dance steps. It gave me a bit or pride to make him uncomfortable. To push him so far out of his element.

As the tempo changed and a new song started, I started with completely different moves. He was caught off guard, again, and did his best to keep up. He gazed around. I laughed.

You know, we won't be overheard. You should tell me about you," I said. He tensed a bit.

"That's not a good idea in public. Even if it is loud, it's dangerous to have any chance of someone hearing," he argued. I just shook my head.

"Oh come on, who would believe it anyway. They'll think you're some creepy horror writer trying to impress an innocent girl," I smirked.

"It's a depressing story," he said. It was amusing to watch his perfect balance change, his body unfamiliar with dance moves. I danced expertly around him, and he tried to face me and failed again and again. Eventually, I stopped in front of him.

"Most stories are. Tell me!" I insisted. He sighed and did.

"When I first left Wallachia, all those years ago, it was 1457 I believe. Vlad banished me for being critical, essentially. I left. I wandered. I went to the Ottomans, but they were not very welcoming of a member of the Tepes family. So I left there. A few years later I wound up in Italy. It was 1459. I met some old royalty and they took me in. They changed me, seeing some sort of military potential. They sent me back, years later, to Romania. I joined up with the Ottoman army at the time and I met Vlad on the battlefield. I killed him." He stopped talking then, looking down at me. I kept dancing the entire time, listening to his story, my eyes mostly closed. I opened them to gaze at him.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "But please, continue." And I kept dancing, my body moving against his in perfect rhythm. He was silent for a moment before he did continue.

"It was not a very good time for me. I was not sure what to do. The new life I had seemed wrong and evil. I wandered a lot. The Italians wanted to use me as a general, but I did not want to fight. I spent a great deal of time in England through the Elizabethan period. Became close with a lot of the starving poets and artists. But it was fleeting. The Italians kept looking for me. So after being tracked down by them four times, I left. I hopped on a ship and came over to this country. That was perhaps 1615 or so." He paused again, as the song changed. I shifted my dance moves around, this new one had a slower tempo. I pressed myself up against him and resumed dancing.

"What did you do when you came here?" I asked. I was curious. I turned my back to him and continued to dance.

"I spent a good portion of time in Virginia. I did not particularly do much. I explored. I wandered. I walked across the country and then came back. I mostly stayed hidden. It was not that bad of a life, as painful as it sounds. I enjoyed it. But things change." He paused again, gazing off into the crowded room. I turned back and kept dancing. Feeling really alive for the first time in far too long.

"What changed?" I asked. He paused for a moment, resting his hands on my swaying hips for a few moments, before speaking.

"I met Leopold Strauss." He pressed his lips together. I felt like I'd heard that name before but I couldn't place it. So I asked, shifting closer to him.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"A mentor of mine. He convinced me to partner with him. We started in Boston. Strauss wanted to be the vampire controller of the continent. At the time there were very few of us in this part of the world. So we hunted down what ones we knew of and game them an ultimatum. Join us, or we would destroy them. A surprising number of them joined. Strauss thought he was being brilliant. But he failed to account for one factor.

"You see, Strauss was not very likable. He tended to cultivate enemies. He loved to think he had control over everyone. He loved to act haughty and superior. It alienated most of our kind. But he was too proud to see it. Eventually, one of us, Max Saren, led the dissatisfied vampires against Strauss. They had enough support to overthrow him, and to this day Saren is still the Prince of Boston, but they did not have the support to end us. Strauss was allowed to live. Saren never had an issue with me, he offered me a Barony in Boston, but I felt more loyalty to Strauss. So I left with him.

"We only stayed together as far as Ohio. At that point he was too annoying, too vindictive, to travel with. So I moved south. He continued west. A few more years passed. I spent the time mostly traveling, exploring, and doing other generally mercenary based activities. It was a living. Then, out of the blue one day, I received a letter.

"I was surprised. It came by a courier of my kind. A freshly made one, by the look of it. It was very short. I remember it nearly word for word. It said 'Join me in Chicago, Anton. I have helped create the city, we can turn it into a metropolis. I need people I can trust. I am sorry for what transpired in Boston and I will not make the same mistake.'" He paused again then, still moving himself with me. I'd lost track of the amount of songs we had danced through. I looked up into his gray eyes.

"So you came to Chicago?" I asked. He nodded.

"Not immediately. I took my time in getting there. I scouted for my kind, to see if they had heard anything of the fledgling city. But we were still a sparse breed in the frontier. Most of my kind prefers populated areas. So I did not discover much. But eventually, I did. The city was certainly not much when I got there. I wandered around it for a few days. Taking in every bit of it that I could. One night, Strauss found me. We chatted, looking over the lake. He convinced me to stay and help him build a metropolis. A sanctuary for our kind. Someplace where we would feel safe, if we abided by simple rules. It sounded pleasant, so I agreed.

"Of course, the first step was to purge the area of any of our kind that disagreed. And that was my job. After that, we had some allies, and had destroyed most of our enemies, so we simply followed the course of the city. Strauss made sure he was invested in anything. He made sure we were involved or behind just about every action in the city. We split it up and set up the rules we wished for our kind to follow. It became a strangely popular city. Many vampires traveled west like just about everyone else. They would come and meet with Strauss or myself and we would explain the rules. It worked so well other cities started to adopt similar systems. Strauss was viewed as a savior of our kind. We could be ourselves, and live in a relative safety. Your kind forgot we existed." We kept dancing through his next pause. He was silent for long enough that I knew I had to say something to continue the story. However, I wasn't sure there was much left to continue.

"Well, what happened?" I asked again. Pressing up to him for a slower song and moving slightly with the beat.

"Things worked out pretty well. We still control a good section of Chicago, and make money through that. I have an office in the Wrigley Building where my kind goes if they need assistance from a specific ruler, or if there are violations to be reported," he said. I looked up at him, that wasn't really the answer I was looking for.

"But what happened to Strauss?" I asked.

"No one knows. One day he just was no longer around. We waited for a while, and when he never showed up, I took over his job. I had been around longer than anyone else, so most people accepted me as the Prince. But most are happy that the system works, that they can feed carefully without notice, and that they almost have a home again," He explained.

"It sounds like you and Strauss created a nice system," I said quietly.

"I like to think so. Certainly a good portion of my kind, especially the ones that were around years ago when we use to be hunted and attacked, seem to think so. But the newer ones still think they should dominate humans. They're foolish. Humans in decent number could kill us with a stake six hundred years ago. What could they do now with bullets and bombs?" He shook his head. I just nodded with him.

We danced in silence then. He seemed to be enjoying himself a little bit more, yet I could tell this was not his favorite activity. I didn't particularly care, though. I was enjoying myself, and I hadn't taken time to enjoy myself in what seemed like years. So I kept dancing. And he kept dancing with me. It was actually very pleasant. I lost myself in the music for a while. Eventually, I snapped out of it a bit. I smiled at him.

"Would you mind getting me a water or something?" I asked. I knew he probably wanted any excuse to stop dancing, so I abided. He nodded a little bit. For a moment, I think he expected me to go with him, but when I simply resumed dancing he nodded a tad more.

"Alright. I will return in a moment," he said softly. I smiled and spun around.

I danced on. It was fantastic. I danced with anyone who approached me. Briefly, at the very least. I let myself feel the music everywhere. I spun around the floor. It was glorious. I kept dancing, on and on and on. Not worried about why it took him forever to find a water, or bothered by whoever tried to dance with me. It was fantastic. I didn't even mind getting felt up a couple of times to keep dancing. A melodic voice snapped me out of my haze.

"So you're the one, eh?" the female voice spoke. I opened my eyes and saw a pretty blond woman. She appeared to be a little bit older than me, her hair fell down her back. She was very pale and wore black pants and a white tank top that showed quite a bit of cleavage. She danced expertly, moving very close to me to do so.

"I'm the one what?" I asked, miming her dance movements. She laughed a little bit.

"That has Anton so enamored," she replied. I blinked a little bit.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Me? I am Dalia, the proprietor of this establishment," she responded, smiling little bit. I was a tad taken aback. She did not look like the type that would own her own club.

"Oh! Really? Yes, I'm Bennevolyn. I love your club! It's excellent! I wish I'd have known about it sooner!" I'd never met a club owner. And it was a cool club. She smiled and laughed a little bit.

"Thank you, Bennevolyn. But I've been eager to meet you, ever since Anton sent his e-mail. You're not at all what I expected," she gazed at me up and down as we danced. "I'm curious how you've managed to enamor him so. No one else has had such luck."

"Oh, I dunno," I said, knowing I was blushing. I wasn't sure what to think of this woman. She was clearly slightly jealous, and she also seemed a little unbalanced. "I didn't do much, really. He saved me, and now has told me I need to stay around until he can be sure I'll be safe," I replied, explaining what I'm sure was in the e-mail. Dalia just laughed.

"Silly girl. Anton wouldn't save you if he didn't care about you. It's not unusual, for one of your kind to die in some aggravated assault case perpetrated by one of our kind. The simple act of saving you is rare. Anton loves his little masquerade. He never violates it. Yet he did, to save you from some thugs. Strange, don't you think?" she kept dancing with me, there was a little hint of malice in her voice. I stared at her for a moment.

"I don't know why he did it. But we didn't even know each other. And I'm glad he did. I'm trying not to impose," I tried to remain diplomatic when I spoke.

"He wants you. Why, well that's beyond me. But something about you is alluring to him. Personally, I think he could do better," she moved closer to me, our bodies touching as we danced. I was vaguely aware that some of the men in the room were starting to just watch us. I was slightly amused, and slightly worried about that.

"You're insane," I said quietly. "If he was that interested in me he'd simply tell me. Besides, he acts like having me around is slightly problematic." She inched closer to me, moving her lips very close to my ear.

"Sure he does. Has he fed off of you yet? I bet he's just dying to. You should ask him. You'll love it. It's better than anything you can imagine," she whispered. I shivered. She scared me. I wanted her to go away, but her words were strangely alluring.

"Wouldn't he just do that, if he wanted to. It's not like I could stop him," I said quietly, wondering what exactly that would be like. It scared me. It couldn't be pleasant. It sounded so very wrong.

"He might. But Anton is all about the asking permission, or so I've been told." Her breath was annoyingly hot on my ear.

"So he's had other girls, like me?" I asked, not sure what Dalia was implying.

"Oh no. He just is by the book. As far as I can tell you're the first girl he's ever even had up to his penthouse," she whispered. I was amazed I could hear her over the music. We kept dancing. Probably to not draw attention to the conversation. Although, our dance moves seemed to be drawing plenty of attention. Where was Anton?

"Well, why are you talking to me then, just curious as to his living arrangements?" I asked. I tried to make the question sound jovial, but I was really scared.

"Oh, no, I'm not particularly interested. But I know other people that would be very, very interested. They would reward you handsomely for information. And perhaps even more handsomely for a key," she whispered into my ear. I backed away from her, fluidly enough that it still seemed like part of a dance.

"I'm not going to give away his secrets for some type of reward. He's saved my life. I'm not going to betray him. If that's what you're after just leave," I said, trying to sound as stern as I could. Dalia looked at me, then laughed a little bit.

"We shall see, Bennevolyn. Perhaps you'll find he's not what he seems, or just decide you rather be on your own. Stranger things have happened." She moved closer to me, continuing the dance. I just shook my head.

"If I want to be on my own, I will be. I won't ask for help from anyone," I replied, again trying to sound incredibly stern. Dalia simply laughed again.

"Well, one day we will find out. But, if you ever change your mind, Bennevolyn, you know where you can find me," she spoke softly and danced away. I noticed that many patrons had been watching the two of us. I just stood there for a moment until Anton cut in front of me, offering me a bottle of water. I took it, ripped it open quickly and proceeded to chug most of it in a rather un-ladylike fashion. He didn't seem to notice or care. When I was done with it I tossed it aside, not caring if I littered in that bitch's club. I grabbed him then and resumed to dance. He smiled a little bit and danced with me as best as he could. After a moment, he asked me.

"So what did Dalia want? I saw she was talking to you." His tone was soft. He didn't seem overly worried about anything she could have had to say to me.

"I don't think she likes me. Or you, for that matter," I replied, looking up into his gray eyes. He slid his hands to my hips as we continued the dance.

"Why is that?" he asked, seeming slightly startled.

"She tried to convince me to sell you out. To give away information about where you live, and a key, to some people. Said others would pay highly for it," I explained. Trying my very best to sound disgusted.

"She did, eh?" he asked, looking down at me and raising an eyebrow. "And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that you saved my life and that I wouldn't betray you," I replied.

"And she wasn't convinced?" he asked.

"No. She says time will tell and that I'll betray you because I'll want to be on my own and independent and all of that jazz," I explained.

"And you told her?" He asked.

"I told her she was being stupid. I owe you far too much. If I want to go out on my own, I doubt you would prevent me. And I'm pretty sure you're generous enough to help me if I were to ask," I replied. I looked up at him to gauge his reaction. He just smiled warmly at me.

"I would be willing to help however I could, Lyn," he said.

"Somehow I knew that. And I appreciate it. She also said you wanted me," I said, blushing a little bit and looking away as we danced.

"I believe that has already been established," he laughed, and took my face, turning it to meet his so he could kiss me. I smiled against his lips.

"Well that's good to know. She also said you'd want to do something to me," I said, wondering what his reaction would be.

"What would that be?" he asked, smirking a little bit. I decided it wouldn't be as fun to just come out and tell him right then and there.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you'll figure it out everything. Something your kind does a lot, I've gathered," I said with a coquettish smirk and continued to dance around him. It loved every second of it. He seemed to comprehend it after a moment.

"Oh. She said I would like to bite you," he stated blandly. Looking around the room. I was slightly surprised to see that he wasn't looking for my reaction. I nodded a little bit.

"Yes, she implied that," I said as dryly as I could. He didn't say anything as the song changed, so I moved closer to him and asked, "would you like to?" morbidly curious, I was. It took him a moment to respond.

"It is something I would be rather interested in trying," he replied carefully. I smiled at him.

"As long as it doesn't kill me, You might be able to convince me to let you try that one day," I said. Realizing I was curious as to how that would work out. Still, I didn't think I'd just let him. I mean it's my blood! I need it!

"Oh it certainly would not kill you," he said, shivering a little bit. I realized that the idea probably had a great effect on him. I bottled that thought away from later and looked up at him. I paused for a moment and looked up at him. Something didn't compute for a moment. Then it clicked.

"Wait, you aren't at all concerned that Dalia was telling me ways in which I could betray you?" I asked. Appraising him for a moment. He just smiled a little bit.

"That would likely be because I am not," he said, expressionlessly.

"But she just told me that I should come to her if I ever wanted to betray you!" I said, somewhat exasperatedly.

"She did," he said, laughing slightly under his breath.

"So why aren't you concerned?" I asked, crossing my arms, and for the first time since entering the club, ceasing to dance. He laughed a little bit, slid his hands over my arms and made me resume dancing.

"Dalia owes me far too much," he said. I blinked.

"Then why would she tell me all of that?" I asked, feeling rather confused.

"She probably was trying to gauge you. See if you were good enough, by her standards, for me. Loyal enough," he said as he started to really dance with me. I was amazed at how quickly he picked up some of the moves.

"But why would she do that?" I asked. I was getting sick of being confused here.

"Because she owes me," he replied simply. This conversation was going in circles. I was beginning to think he enjoyed being intentionally confusing. Probably fancied himself a post-modernist. Or maybe he just got paid by the line and liked excessive conversation and dialogue.

"What did you do for her?" I asked, feeling slightly jealous and concerned. Perhaps there was more to Anton and Dalia than I knew. He just smiled a little bit.

"She ran into a rough patch back in Europe. The same Italian's that I use to be affiliated with were trying to kill her. I was back in Europe, trying to recruit some interested parties in coming to the city; this was shortly after the First World War. We figured our kind would be interested in getting out of the destroyed countries. I didn't know who she was, but was intrigued that they were hunting her. So I followed them. I managed to arrive slightly before the hunters, and convinced them, quite expertly I may add, that I had resumed my position with their clan. They believed me. Or at least didn't wish to challenge me. So they left me to take care of her," his voice trailed off a bit. I moved closer to him, dancing a bit faster than I had been previously, mostly trying to get him to keep up.

"What did you do?" I asked. He smiled a little bit.

"Punched her in the face," he replied. I gasped.

"You did what?" I almost yelled.

"Well she attacked me first," he responded. I blinked and he continued. "She thought I was going to kill her so she came at me and I hit her. Then I backed away and told her to stop and that it was not my intention to harm her. It took some convincing, and a few trees may have been destroyed in the process, but eventually she agreed to talk with me."

"And then what?" I asked. I couldn't help but picture the two of them fighting. Somehow I got the feeling that Dalia's body destroyed more trees than Anton's. I made a mental note to try to watch him fight once. Although I hoped that would never be a situation I would have to find myself in.

"I told her she could come and join Strauss and I in Chicago. We would not hunt her unless she violated our rules. If she was interested, she should report to Strauss, who was operating out of the south side of the city at that time." He continued. I nodded a little bit as he spoke.

"So she went with you to Chicago?" I asked.

"No. I gave her my pitch and then I left her there. I just turned around and walked off, continuing on my mission. I returned to Chicago about a year, maybe a year and a half later. I'd gone through Europe and Asia and back through the west. Circumnavigated the world on a recruiting tour." He smirked a little bit, like that was a proud moment in his life.

"You really have been everywhere but Africa, haven't you?" I asked. I'm sure my voice sounded as astonished as I felt. He smiled a little bit.

"Most of Africa. I've visited the ruins of Carthage, and stopped off in Egypt. But yes. I like to travel."

"So you eventually came back to Chicago?" I asked, wanting to continue the story.

"Yes. Very few of the people I tried to recruit were there. But Dalia was one of them. Strauss had taken a liking to her, though. However, she did not return his feelings. So Strauss, in a fashion reminiscent of the Strauss I knew hundreds of years before, imprisoned her and tortured her." He practically spat the last few words. I could sense his anger at what had happened, and that he blamed himself for it. I felt terrible for him. He was acting on Strauss's orders at the time, and must have felt he betrayed her as much as Strauss betrayed him. The music had slowed, almost to match our moods. I frowned before I could speak. When I could the words felt far too weak.

"I'm sorry." But what else was there to say?

"Me too," he said softly. "It was the first time Strauss and I had fought in years. And it was the beginning of the end, really. I challenged Strauss publically about her. And I defeated him, rather handedly. I told him that our city would not tolerate that behavior. It was cruel. We stared at each other for a long time. He asked me if I was taking the city from him. I explained that was not my intention. Just that I would not tolerate slavery or imprisonment for no reason. Dalia and I left then. My relationship with Strauss never recovered after that. It would still be nearly half a century before he would vanish, but we were never really close again. The history of the city didn't help, either," he sighed at the memory, then twirled me a little bit. The move was entirely inappropriate for how we were dancing, but I smiled and let him. We resumed dancing after.

"What do you mean," I asked.

"The city itself changed. The power center use to be the south-side. Slowly, mostly through migration, the dynamic changed. Downtown became more and more affluent and more and more important. That happened to be where I was stationed. He thought I was intentionally doing it. It just furthered the rift between us. The other Barons knew of the rift, the rest of the vampire population was unaware," Anton shook his head as he finished speaking.

"Did any of the other Barons accuse you of getting rid of him, when he vanished?" I asked. It seemed like he would have had some motive. Or at least motive to an outsider. And he did clearly benefit from it. And what was that old saying? Look to who gained the most?

"They tried. I had an incredible alibi, though," he said.

"What was it?" I asked.

"Three days before he vanished he approached me. He had a friend in Baltimore who was in a bit of a sticky situation, as he described it. He asked if I could go there and help his friend. I wanted to tell him to go deal with it himself. But I didn't seem right to refuse him in front of the rest of the Barons. And I had been in Chicago for a while, and thought that Baltimore would be a nice change of pace. So I left," he continued. I looked up at him.

"So every ruler knew that you were gone. When did you learn he was gone?"

"Not until I came back. He had been gone for a month at that point. The community was in shambles. It was terrible. I came back and the Barons were on the verge of open warfare. I stepped in and proceeded to tell them how bad of an idea that would be. I convinced the vast majority how bad of an idea that would be. And we have lived like that ever since. It has been very tense, but that is life. We still do not have a Prince. I fill the role when a need arises, but mostly the Barons take care of their own business," he said softly.

"I see. And you haven't heard from him since," I asked.

"Not a word. Not a letter. Not even an e-mail. Although he left before that even existed," he replied. "I have no idea where he is. Some of us tried to find him a few years ago, just to see if he was even still alive, but we had no luck."

"I'm sorry," I said. I seemed to be apologizing a lot this conversation, but I couldn't think of anything better to say.

"It is hardly your fault, Lyn," he responded, smiling at me. He spun me again as the songs changed. I laughed a little bit.

"You do realize that move is totally inappropriate for the type of dancing?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes. But one day I'll have to teach you how we use to dance back when I come from. This would be scandalous," he responded.

"I'm actually intrigued by that. It could come in handy on a final in one of my dance classes. Of course, I would need an experienced partner," I teased.

"Well I am more than willing to help," he replied with a smile. I realized that he never did quite fully explain the situation with him and Dalia.

"So, after you rescued her from Strauss, Dalia owes you for that?" I asked.

"Yes. But after that I asked her what she wanted to do. The twenties were starting up a bit, and despite prohibition she wanted to open a sort of club. So I bought her the space, and fronted her some money and some manpower, and you have this place. It has changed a few times over the years. Ever decade or so she sells it, to herself, and changes it up a bit. It has probably about five more years left as this incarnation. She is interested in trying out a fine dining establishment. I am not sold on how well that will go over. It has mostly been a club-like atmosphere in every incarnation. At least whatever the 'club' is at the time," he explained.

"That's actually pretty cool," I commented, turning away from him and dancing with my back to him for a little bit more.

"Yes. She is a rather good publicist too. Always manages to make money with her little club. Has for years. It did not take her very long at all to pay me back," he said with a smile. I could sense that he was happy she had found her niche. I asked the question I was fearing.

"Were you two ever an item?" I blushed a little bit when I asked, but I hoped I was flushed from the exercise and he wouldn't notice.

"No," he said rather sternly. "We've joked about it. I think that we both thought about it. I would not have been surprised if we wound up together at some point. But we are very different. Nothing would have lasted," he said, pulling me back into him. I nodded a little bit.

"Well I'm glad for that," I said, smiling at him. "But why would she talk to me about betraying you then?"

"She was likely testing you," he replied.

"Testing me?" I asked.

"Yes. She tends to be bit overprotective. She probably just wants to gauge you, and threaten you," he replied.

"Do you need protection?" I asked, mostly teasingly as I spun back around to face him.

"Not really," he smirked. "But it is nice to know that she cares, at the very least." I laughed a little bit, shaking my head slightly. We danced for a few more minutes, without speaking. I thought about everything he had said. Such a complicated world to live in. Yet I suppose one simply got use to it. It must be strange, though, seeing all the same faces for centuries. That thought made me rather nervous. Another song passed, I was mostly lost in thought. He may have tried to speak with me. I don't know. If he did, I didn't reply. After that song ended I spoke.

"We can go now," I said. He looked at me.

"Are you sure? I don't mind dancing with you. We can keep doing it, if you like," he sounded like he rather would like to keep doing it. Amazing what having your body close to someone and moving in harmony with a nice techno rhythm.

"Oh yes. I've had my fill for the night. We can dance more later," I said, smiling at him. "I would like to go home now." I blinked a little bit. I realized that my idea of 'home' had changed from my parents' house, to my grandmother's house, to my dorm, to Anton's condo. It had all happened so quickly. He didn't even register it, really. He looked at me for a moment, like he was wondering if he did something wrong.

"You want me to take you back to your dorm?" he asked. "Did I do something wrong?" He looked generally concerned. It was cute. I paused and looked at him.

"No. I meant to your condo. Sorry. It barely even occurred to me what I thought of was 'Home'." I paused and looked up at him, he laughed.

"Oh. I see. Well that's fine by me. Are you sure you wouldn't like to grab something to eat, first?" He asked. I realized that I hadn't eaten since before my hair appointment that day. I signed.

"Yes. I probably should, but nothing too fancy!" I knew his idea of a quick bite often led to far more expensive restaurants than were necessary.

"It is one in the morning, Benne, most places fancy are long since closed," he commended. I frowned a little bit.

"Oh, then we don't have to go anywhere. I can make something when we get back," I said, frowning. He laughed.

"How about Bijan's?" he asked. I knew vaguely of the place. It was a pseudo-Irish pub that was open late on State street.

"That will work," I nodded.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. If anyone would like to contact me for any reason a PM is likely the best route.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit. No beta on this, so mistakes are my own.

Chapter 6

We walked out of the club and he hailed a cab. It was a quick ride to the restaurant. We each took a stool at the bar. One thing I'd noticed about him is that he rather enjoyed bar dining. He would only get a table if the place didn't have a bar. He'd have probably done tables had I requested it. And I thought about it because, at first I thought it was slightly strange, but the more and more I did it, the more I started to enjoy it.

Bartenders were often more personable than waiters, and the service was often better, and it was more at your own pace. We perused the menu while I drank another glass of water. Dancing for hours can sure take quite a bit out of you. Anton ordered wine for each of us. Funny, really. I never got carded with him. It was slightly liberating. Sometimes, I forgot I wasn't even of age yet. We chatted quietly. I ordered a turkey club, wanting something basic. He ordered some fish special that actually sounded pretty good. Or maybe I just wanted to eat the mashed potatoes that it came with. We chatted quietly, about nothing in particular, over the wine and we were mostly silent when our food came. The club was surprisingly good for such a basic meal. His mashed potatoes were pretty delicious, too. I helped myself to most of them. He paid the tired looking bartender then we left. He was going to get a cab but I shook my head.

"No, let's walk, it's only like four blocks!" I said with a smile. He nodded.

"Alright. I always like a good walk," he smiled. It was getting colder as December rolled around, but I didn't care. He had a coat now, which was strange, but he never seemed to be cold. I got the feeling he wasn't, and the coat was just to look less out of place.

"Me too," I replied. "They're more invigorating in the cold, too," I said. He chuckled a little bit.

"I guess. It has been far too long since I was actually cold," he responded. I just took his hand and walked with him, not sure how to respond to that. After a bit he simply asked, "So you enjoyed yourself tonight?" I looked over at him and smiled.

"I did. Thank you very much. I haven't been able to dance like that. I really had a blast," I said. And it was true. I did really enjoy myself more than I can remember enjoying myself in a very long time.

"Anytime," he replied with a warm smile. And I knew then that even if dancing wasn't his thing he did mean that. It was comforting to know. We arrived at the lobby of his building. He walked over to his special elevator that led directly up to his penthouse. He swiped his key and it opened. We stepped in, he swiped his key again and it began to rise. We stood in silence and listened to the bad music that was obligatory of all elevators. We stepped out of the elevator and into the small waiting area. He opened the door to the condo and we walked in. It still felt absurdly big whenever I entered it. And open. I loved it, don't get me wrong. And I was totally jealous that he owned it. But it just seemed like too much living space in a city. I yawned a little bit, the wine and the exercise was making me sleepy. But I didn't want the night to end yet. He smiled at me and hung up his coat, then took mine and did the same with it. He spoke softly.

"Thanks," I said softly, still not use to his hospitality. I'm not sure I'd hung my jacket myself any of the times that I'd been in his condo.

"You are welcome," he replied automatically. He stepped toward me then and kissed me. I smiled a bit and kissed him back, softly. We broke it after a moment and he asked, "What would you like to do now?" his voice was soft.

"I'm tired. But I don't want to go to bed yet. Let's watch a movie?" I asked, hesitantly. He never really seemed to just sit and watch TV so I wasn't sure if this topic would actually appeal to him. He smiled though, and walked toward his bedroom.

"Alright. Pick one out, I'm going to go change," he said. I looked toward the living room and walked over to the tower of dvd's he had. I suppose I should get with the times and call them Bluerays now. But it's all the same to me. His selection was insane. Insanely insane. And he had them organized alphabetically with no other marker of anything. I blinked and just started to look through them. I made a mental note to remind him to organize them by genre at least. I picked out a sappy animated film I recognized from my more youthful days and put it on the table. He was walking out of the bedroom then. I smiled at him.

"It's on the table. I'm going to change quick too," I said, walking past him into the room.

"Alright. I shall get it ready then," he responded. I quickly changed out of my dancing outfit, tossing it into his laundry basket, and shifted through the unorganized mess that was my clothing.

I'd taken over half of his closet, with no rhyme or reason, and a few of his dresser drawers as well, but he didn't seem to care. In fact, the dresser drawers were his idea. I dug through them and found some cotton shorts and a tank top and put each on. I looked over at the bed and figured I'd get cold eventually, so I walked over to it and pulled one of the soft blankets off of it. I tossed it around my shoulders like a make-shift cloak and walked back into the living room.

I saw he had the menu playing on the TV, and that he was just lounging on the couch, leaning on one of the arms. I walked around the other side and sat next to him, pulling the blanket up around me. He leaned forward and hit the play button on the remote and the movie started. I couldn't help but smile at the old childhood memories that came rushing back.

A few moments into the movie he shifted on the couch, laying himself down and pulling me to him. I leaned back against his chest as he adjusted the blanket around us. His arms were warm around me. It was nice. We laughed at the funny parts, sniffled at the sad ones, and simply enjoyed the short movie. When it ended we both simply lay on the couch, smiling a little bit and watching the credits.

"Want to watch another one?" I asked quietly. The lights were off in the condo and the so the only light was the glow of the TV.

"If you would like to," he whispered softly into my ear. I sighed.

"I don't really want to get up," I admitted. He chuckled.

"Me either." I couldn't help but laugh. "So we may have a problem then."

"We might," he said as he leaned down and kissed my neck softly. "But we do not really need to go anywhere for a while."

"That's true," I whispered, shivering a little bit. He kept kissing my skin, very softly, and I simply melted against him, closing my eyes. I melted against him.

"May I, Bennevolyn?" he whispered against my neck. It took me a moment to realize what he was asking. I paused. I didn't know. He'd done a lot for me though. So I made the decision.

"Yes," I said quietly. I shivered a tad more, afraid of what this may entail. But he just kept kissing my neck, softly for a few moments. It occurred to me then, what I had said, and what I had agreed to. Like really occurred to me. And I was scared. More afraid than I can remember in a while. He was going to hurt me? That's so wrong, Benne! Why would you want to be in a relationship with someone who wants to hurt you! Who thinks of you as dinner! I felt his arms wrap tightly around me and I wanted to scream. To yell. To struggle at all. To get out of there as fast as I could! But I couldn't move. His lips were still so very soft on my neck. I paused and then spoke.

"Wait wait wait!" I gasped. He paused, his lips sliding slowly off my neck. I lifted my head a little to look at him.

"Okay," he whispered softly. I had never seen him look the way he looked then. He was panting. His pupils were dilated. He still had his arms around me, but I didn't think it was to hold me. It felt more like it was to give himself something to focus on. He wasn't hurting me, but it seemed fairly close to that, like he was trying to regain his focus.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, for what seemed like the millionth time that night. He didn't respond. I felt ashamed and miserable. Like I had totally let him down. I noticed his jaw was clenched then, and that he didn't seem to be breathing. His eyes were focused on the ceiling. Part of me wanted to cry. How terrible is that? I wanted to cry. There is no reason to cry now. But I wanted to.

"Nothing. To. Apologize. For," he said. Very slowly. Staccato. It made me feel worse. Eventually, his arms slid off of me. His jaw was still clenched. I noticed that his hands were balled into fists. I got off of him. Taking the blanket with me.

"It just seems wrong," I said, watching him from a few steps away, the blanket wrapped around me like a cloak. He nodded curtly but didn't speak. Instead he closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate very hard on something.

"That's fine," he said, quickly. Almost harshly. I felt myself cower a little bit.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked timidly.

"No," he replied. Very quickly. The word came from his lips like a shot. I didn't know what else to do but try to explain myself.

"It's just. It seems wrong. I mean. It's my blood. I need it to survive. And, well, I know you need blood to survive too, but it just doesn't feel right," I rambled. He was silent. Still focused intently on something.

"I understand," he replied. His words were very curt. They had a rough edge to them. I almost thought I could sense a bit of an accent in them. Something I hadn't noticed before. I couldn't stop myself from talking.

"And it seems like it would hurt, and I don't want to get hurt. I don't really like pain. I hate shots. And puncturing my skin with your teeth? That's not right. How can that be pleasant. I realize it is for you, but that just doesn't appeal to me. I'm sorry I said yes. I wasn't thinking straight. Please don't hate me. Please," I babbled. I wasn't even very coherent with what I was saying. After a moment he seemed to visibly relax. He unclenched his jaw first. Then his fists. Then he stood. He walked toward the kitchen, not speaking until he got into the tiled area that marked it off from the rest of the condo.

"I do not hate you, Bennevolyn," he said softly. I heard the microwave open and I moved toward the kitchen. He opened the freezer and started to rummage around. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew what he was looking for. I'd yet to actually see him drink blood. The more I thought about it the more it disgusted me. I briefly felt like I needed to go throw up.

"I'm sorry," I said again, timidly. "You looked so upset." He pulled his head out of the freezer and looked at me. He smiled.

"I know. Stop apologizing," he said. "That part is hard to control. See, when we think we're going to feed, it becomes instinctive. You let that part take over for a moment. Then when you have to pull yourself back from it without feeding, that is very difficult. It takes a great deal of concentration. I had to completely zone you out, your scent, your smell, even ignore the feeling of your weight on me, to not simply ignore your request." He popped his head back into the freezer. He took out one of the frozen bags of blood and left it on the counter.

"Oh. I didn't know," I said. I looked at the bag for a moment, thinking of drinking the liquid. I gagged a little bit when I thought about it. Strange, sucking on a paper cut didn't bother me. But the thought of it flowing into your mouth, filling it, and swallowing, was just completely disgusting.

"I know you didn't," he said, chuckling a little as I gagged. "It is better fresh."

"That is so wrong," I said, gazing at the blood on the counter. He laughed a little bit.

"Disgusted by me?" He asked, leaning against the refrigerator.

"A little bit, yea," I admitted.

"Never occurred to you that this is how I survive?" He crossed his arms over his chest. I couldn't tell if he was angry or amused. It seemed to be a mix of the two.

"Well, I guess it just never computed," I said. My eyes kept alternating between the blood bag on the counter and the vampire leaning against the fridge.

"You realize that you drank my blood, correct?" He raised his eyebrows. I thought about that for a moment. I thought back to when that happened. It was a hazy memory. I associate it with pain. But not quite with pain. Pain at first. But then it was wonderful. I couldn't remember a taste to save my life, but I remembered it healed me, and that I had energy when I woke up. And suddenly I was thirsty, but I didn't want water. I gagged more at the thought.

"Yes, well," was my articulate response. He just laughed more, shaking his head.

"You want more of it, too," he said, softly when he finished laughing.

"That's not fair," I frowned. "I didn't until you mentioned it! I couldn't, actually, can't, even remember what it tasted like!" He picked up a knife from the counter then, an gazing at me he held it to his wrist.

"Oh?" he asked, pressing the blade into his skin.

"Don't!" I gasped, half because I didn't want him to hurt himself, and half because I didn't want to see his blood, to see what reaction that would bring out of me. He laughed a bit and put the blade back onto the counter.

"See. It's a powerful allure, even for someone who has only touched it once while she was nearly unconscious. That want is even stronger for me. And it is linked to my survival. I understand it is likely abhorrent to you. But without it I would eventually die," he said softly. He picked up the bag and tossed it into the microwave. He was about to push buttons to start it when I spoke.

"Please don't. I don't think I can watch that," I said. He looked at me. His expression was strange. It could have said, "this is my house, girl, I'll drink what I need to." But he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled the microwave open and took the bag out. He angrily opened the freezer once more and tossed the bag into it with enough force that I half expected it would have popped on impact. I felt foolish. So very foolish. I didn't know what to do. I knew I was being impractical. But it didn't matter. The thought just disgusted me. He walked past me. I followed him, wondering where he was going. He opened the closet door and took out a full length coat.

"Good night, Bennevolyn," he said as he tossed the coat on and stepped into a pair of loafers. I blinked a little bit. Had I not known better I wouldn't have even noticed he was in pajamas and didn't even have socks.

"Wait. What?" I asked.

"I _need_ blood, Bennevolyn. I was foolish to let myself go this long. The incident on the couch only made me realize how much I need it. If I do not feed, I may lose control," he spoke slowly. Again, his words seemed harsher than they probably were.

"Lose control?" I asked. He sighed.

"Frenzy," he replied. "Bloodlust. Whatever you would like to call it. Go after whatever is near me. Feed till I am completely sated. Which will likely kill the victim," he explained.

"I didn't know," I said. I realized he had not told me much about what it was like being a vampire. I realized that somehow I often thought of him as a human. This was really the first overly supernatural conversation we had taken part in.

"I know you didn't," he said. "But, since I am not able to feed here, I will just have to go elsewhere to find the sustenance I require." And with that he stepped out into the lobby. I went to follow him, but by the time I got into the small lobby, the elevator had already closed. I stood there, for a few minutes, hoping the door would open and that he would come back. When I realized he wasn't coming back I stepped back into the condo.

It was strangely barren. I'm not sure if the feeling of utter emptiness I had was because I felt like a fool for letting him go, or because I realized I was completely alone in his vast condo. So I paced. I didn't know what else to do. A part of me said I should go to bed and hope I could fall asleep without crying. Another part of me knew that if I stopped doing something, and allowed myself to curl up under his blankets I would start crying.

Our first fight. It was strange, it didn't feel like a fight. It felt like he was simply being too accommodating. Why was I such a baby about it though? And why couldn't I have just gone into the other room and pretended I didn't know what he was doing We were both being dumb, I supposed. But I couldn't help but feel like it was entirely my fault. I'd upset him. He has been nothing but kind, loving, and wonderful since I met him. And I admit to his face that I'm disgusted by the mere thought of his primary means of survival. I realized how poorly that must have sounded.

I needed to do something. Anything. I saw his computer sitting open in the corner and decided to check my Facebook. I pulled up the internet and took an already open blank tab to the page.

My usual internet haunts didn't have as much stuff to look at as I hoped. Barely any time passed. The digital clock in the corner of the computer read 4:49. I sighed. I debated trying to read some fan-fiction, or really to do anything to pass the time. I decided on the fan-fiction when I realized I'd closed the browser tab I was using. I found the internet icon on his desktop and brought it up.

It loaded a Google Home Page. His setup was pretty boring. Date and time in the middle. Left side he had world news and national news, right side he had sports news and his recent e-mails. I saw he had one from a few minutes previous. The only thing that popped up as unread. It was terrible of me. I shouldn't have done it. But it was from Dalia, and the subject was 'New Girl'. I couldn't help myself, I read it.

Anton,

I was rather impressed with your Ghoul. Although, I suppose I am doing her a disservice by calling her that, she certainly did not appear to be as enamored and obsessed with you as most Ghouls are their masters. I guess you were being honest when you said that vampiric slavery disgusted you. I assumed that moral Anton finally realized what he could get from a Ghoul. Of course, from what I've heard she's not your first. You have to tell me sometime. No matter who I interrogate, they all say that your last ghoul was well known, but well before they knew you. Dispel the rumors for me! I'm dying to know!

Also, if you wish to keep your VIP status at my club, you should consider visiting more often. While everyone here at Sanctuary is honored by your visit tonight, most members, even long-term investors, need to visit more than three times in a century to maintain their status. Please regard this as your formal notification that if you do not visit at least three more times in the next decade I will have to tell the bouncer to no longer allow you to enter the establishment.

But enough of the formal work related crap. I wanted to tell you that I approve. She seems to be loyal and while I expected you to wind up with a runaway princess or something absurdly romantic, the two of you seem to suit each other. Remember the words you told me all those years ago, though: Our world is strange. It is not for the faint of heart. It is not a world people should be brought into lightly, and it should always be their choice.

I shouldn't have to remind you of that conversation. And I suppose that out of context, the words do not mean as much as I hoped. But remember them, Anton. Be careful with her. Be gentle with her. The two of you looked wonderful together. I couldn't help but think that perhaps you two are meant for each other. But I do not want to see you hurt in all of this. Remember, you are kind, you are caring, you are intelligent, and you are an excellent catch for any girl. We're all just amazed one snared you. And since none of us here are sure how dating worked in 1450 or whenever it is you're from, we've decided to give you advice based largely on what we see on sitcoms now.

Now it's time for the obligatory warning. Remember she is a human girl. We are not human. We do not think like them, we do not feel like them, and no matter how good of a mimic we are, we do not act like them in every situation. I can tell you're smitten with her. It's strange, seeing you smitten. Here you almost had me convinced that your indifferent façade was the real you. I hope everything works out for the best for you. She passed my initial loyalty test. I do not think that she will betray you, even after all of this business with the Anarchists is complete. But just remember that that does not mean she will want to stay with you. Remember, they are strange and fickle. And also remember that you have done far too much, for far too many, to be screwed by some human girl.

There is barely a vampire in Chicago who doesn't feel some sort of loyalty to you, and there is barely a vampire in Chicago who doesn't love you in their own way. Remember all of that. From all of us, we hope for the best for your sake. You certainly can use the love. Hopefully she'll remind you that you don't need to spend every waking hour working, as well.

Yours, always and forever,

Dalia.

That did it. It may be silly of me. And I know I was being a creep by reading his e-mail. But that completely pushed it over the edge. I was crying by the end of it. I couldn't believe how ignorant of him I was. I had asked questions about his past, about what he had done before, but I still knew next to nothing about him. We talked a lot about me, and I think he knew a great deal about me. But aside from historical factoids, I knew next to nothing about him. Dalia's e-mail simply left me with more questions, and feeling far worse about not understanding what he is. I must just be a terrible girlfriend.

I paused at that thought. Am I even really a girlfriend? We certainly acted like a couple. We did everything couples do. Dalia's e-mail gave me the impression she thought we were a couple. But we had never discussed it. At first, I certainly felt more like a ward than a girlfriend. But that had changed. Yet I don't know how he felt, if he even wanted a girlfriend. Girlfriend. That is a very lame term, isn't it? I felt so incomplete, so inadequate. I needed to learn more about him. And, I realized, I needed to discover if this was a life I could live.

I couldn't remember the last time I fantasized about marriage and forever after, but I realized I was going to need to think about things like that. What if Anton wanted to change me? I had just admitted that I found his lifestyle disgusting! Could I live it? I suppose, if I had to. Did I want to live it? Well, I wanted to be with him. That wasn't the question you'd just asked yourself, Benne. Did you want to live his lifestyle? The honest answer was simple. No. Was I sure that was what I wanted for the rest of my eternity, though? No again. I certainly wasn't sure of that.

But I would need to be. Probably not immediately, but eventually. It would be a nice life, I knew, with him. He was, as Dalia said kind, caring, and intelligent. I had a feeling he would support me in anything I tried. That was more than I could say about a lot of people. Even, to some extent, my parents, who never saw dance as practical. Of course, I couldn't help but laugh to myself, practical takes on an entirely different meaning when you're in a penthouse condo in the heart of downtown Chicago.

I wiped the tears from my eyes. It was well past five in the morning by that point. Anton hadn't returned. I'm not sure I expected him to. Well, he'd have to at some point. What would I do if he pulled a Strauss? He'd probably hate that expression that I just made up. That would be strange. I had a key. He'd paid for the condo. I don't know how he handled the other bills he had. I wondered if he even bothered to pay attention to internet, television, and utilities. Could I score my own condo in Chicago?

Wait. What are you thinking, Bennevolyn. You care about him. You don't want to steal his condo. You would kill you if you did that to you. Dalia would kill you if you did that to him. Of course, he would have done it to himself, but that's beside the point. You want him to come back. You want to see him again. I started crying again. Everything just felt so very wrong.

I walked into the bedroom because it was late and I had no idea what else to do. I crawled into the bed. It smelled like him. I curled into a ball and eventually fell asleep. I'm sure it didn't take as long as I thought it did.

Author's Note: This chapter was split in two because I didn't think it worked as well as one solid entity. That means if I get bored I'll post the second one quickly. Mostly, though, I'm focusing on PureBlood Princess and a new Harry/Fleur fic. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am maknig no profit. Also no beta here so all mistakes are my own

Chapter 7

It was well after noon when I finally woke up. He was not in the bed. I had hoped he'd show up at some point during the night. Well, I suppose during the morning. But he hadn't. I walked into the condo and looked in all of the rooms. He wasn't there. I'm not sure why I expected he would be, but I had hoped.

I took a very long shower, hoping he would turn up while I cleaned up. He didn't. I dressed then, casually in dark jeans and a dark thermal sweatshirt. I poked through his cabinets and found a box of cereal. I ate it right out of the box, not really caring so much what it was but rather just wanting food. The phone rang then. I jumped a little bit. I hadn't even expected him to have a home phone. Didn't everyone just use cells anymore? I picked it up carefully.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Anton Tepes?" a voice asked, mispronouncing his last named horribly. Like the speaker assumed Anton was an archaic form of native American residence.

"He's not home right now," I replied.

"Oh, he has a bunch of deliveries here. Can you come down and get them?" the man on the phone asked. I thought about it for a moment, but then I decided it had to be harmless.

"Yea I'll be down in a minute," I said before hanging up the phone. It took me a few moments to find my key. It was in my backpack which I had tossed mostly randomly into a corner. I grabbed the key and stepped into the lobby than into the elevator. I stepped out into the lobby and the doorman had a few boxes at his desk. I smiled at him.

"You're the one from Mr. Tepes's condo?" He asked. He glanced appraisingly at me, and then back at the packages, before looking at me again. I could guess what was going through his head.

"Yes. I take it these are it?" I said looking at the two boxes on the desk.

"Yea, they are, need some help with them?" He asked. I walked over to the desk and picked them up. They were pretty heavy, but not too bad. I grabbed them both.

"No, I should be alright as long as you get the elevator for me," I said.

"Of course," he smiled at me and walked over to the elevator, opening it for me. I stepped inside and worked my way back up to the top floor. I dropped the boxes and slid them toward the door, which I opened and then pushed the boxes through with my foot. I put them up onto his counter and read the label on them.

Oh, Bloomingdales. So they were my clothing from yesterday. Well, that at least gave me something to do. I took the boxes into the bedroom and unpacked them, discarding their contents onto the bed. This time, unlike the e-mail, I felt better about opening something addressed to him.

Of course, despite the nature of it being a felony, I at least knew the stuff inside was intended for me. I methodically unpacked the goods and placed them away in their proper spot. Neatly folding things that required it, and hanging things that required that. I nearly doubled the amount of clothing I had at his condo. That was a slightly sickening thought. But I went with it.

It took me longer to unpack than it probably should have. I hoped he would come home and help me. Naturally, he didn't. I walked back into the main area of the condo and looked out the windows. I was still hungry and it was still early enough that I didn't quite have to worry about the sun setting now. I grabbed my coat and my purse and left the condo.

I was surprised by how brisk the air was on Michigan Avenue. I didn't know quite what I wanted to eat, and I didn't quite know how much money I had in my wallet. I walked a couple of blocks south and then decided to cut down Ontario. I vaguely remembered a sushi restaurant being on the north side of the street a block or two down, so I wandered toward it. I found it and walked in.

They were just starting their dinner service, it appeared. I was just about the only person in the restaurant. I took a seat at the sushi bar and ordered some green tea and a glass of ice water. I flirted with the sushi guy behind the bar briefly. I wasn't particularly sure what to order and told him to just keep bringing me stuff until I told him to stop. I asked to not make it too strange though. He started with some pretty basic rolls. They were a little bit boring, but I was starving and I devoured them.

After that, he started with the more fishy stuff. It's clear I'm not a food critic. Suffice to say I enjoyed pretty much all of it. He had the kitchen bring out some cooked stuff, too. Most of it was good. Some of it had a tad too much garlic for my tastes, but most of it was rather enjoyable. I liked the fish the best. I sat there for much longer than I expected. Flirting lightly with the bartender and eating whatever they decided to serve me.

I usually don't like going out alone, especially without a book, but I had a good time. Which helped. Eventually, I asked for my check and he went and got it. I rummaged through my purse, hoping I actually had money. That would be embarrassing. He returned to me with the check. It was for much less than I expected. I smiled brightly. I put two twenties on it hand handed it to him.

"Thanks," I said. He smiled a bit at me and took the money and the check.

"Need change?" he asked.

"No, it's yours."

"Thank you. Come back soon," he said, smiling a bit himself. I nodded and made my way to the exit. It was then I noticed that the sun had long since set. I had to take out my phone to set the time. It wasn't even that late, just past six, and it was nearly pitch black. I hate daylight savings time. I remembered his warning about being out alone at night. Part of me felt I should get a cab. But it was only four blocks at the most back to his condo. It may take me just as long to find a cab as it would to walk.

Then I realized how ridiculous I was being. It wasn't even late. No one was going to mug me. I would be home in under ten minutes. I crossed my arms angrily over my chest and walked home. No one so much as looked at me in the time it took me to get home. The doorman was the first one to acknowledge my presence when he greeted me as I entered the residency.

See, Bennevolyn! Walking home at night is mostly not dangerous. Especially when it wouldn't be night if the government didn't decide we needed less daylight. I don't live in Iceland for a reason you know! I paused at that thought. Anton had said his kind was involved in a lot of random government things. I wonder if they were behind the extra hour of darkness? That would be comical. I laughed aloud thinking about that as I walked back into the condo. It was exactly as I had left it. Absolutely no signs of life during my absence. I walked around a little bit before finding the book I needed to read for class in my bag. I plopped down on the couch, turned on some inane sitcom, and started to read.

Of course I started thinking too much. And couldn't help but wonder just when his condo had turned into my home. A home that my actions caused him to flee. I bit my lip and stared down at the pages. My chest felt about a thousand times heavier than normal.

That's how I spent the rest of my evening. It was rather boring. The book wasn't particularly entertaining. One of those classics of literature that is only still relevant because it is old. It was putting me to sleep. But I got a good portion of it done by the time eleven o'clock rolled around. I didn't feel like being awake then, and he still wasn't back, so I changed back into pajamas and crawled into bed. I turned the TV in the bedroom on and watched some old movie until I fell asleep.

I don't think I slept very well. At least not very soundly. But I should thank that. Mostly because the bedroom door closing woke me. It was still dark out, but I got the feeling it was very early in the morning. I felt like I had slept for a decent amount of time at least. I sat up like a shot and saw him standing there. I knew my eyes were side. I laughed a little bit when I saw him. He looked tired. He spoke softly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I assumed you had not returned to your dormitory when I saw your school supplies were still here," he said softly. He had hung up his coat in the hallway, but he was not wearing the pajamas that he left in the night before. Instead he had on jeans and a dark green button up t-shirt. He peeled off the shirt slowly and hung it in the closet. I blinked.

"Did you want me to leave?" I asked.

"No," he replied quietly. "I just was not sure what you would do." He took off his undershirt and lazily tossed it into the laundry basket.

"Oh. Where did you go?" I asked.

"I wandered around the city until the sun came up. Then I went to the office for most of the day. Changed and caught up on some work. Then I wandered a bit more, trying to find someone to feed on. I didn't, though. Why did you read my e-mail?" He asked. I blushed and spoke quietly.

"Curiosity killed the cat?" I asked sheepishly. He laughed a little bit and I felt better.

"Oh. I am not upset. Merely curious," he said.

"Well, I was merely curious," I admitted. "And I wanted to see what Dalia said." He nodded a little bit.

"I would have probably shared it with you anyway," he explained as he took off of his pants and found some athletic shorts to slide on. "But I noticed at work that it had already been opened."

"I won't do it again," I said quietly. He laughed.

"Oh. Don't worry about it," he said. "It is unimportant." He walked over toward the bed. "Are you still mad at me?"

"I never was," I said quietly. "Are you still mad at me?" I asked. He made a face and I blinked.

"Garlic?" he asked. I paused. Was that myth true? None of the myths were really true. But well, they all seemed to have a facet of the truth in them. I stared at him.

"Yea, is that bad?" I asked. He laughed.

"No. Just a bit overpowering," he said, kissing me softly. "And I was never mad at you, either." I pulled away from the kiss, suddenly self-conscious of my breath. I slid out of the bed and ducked into the bathroom, causing him to laugh rather loudly behind me. I brushed my teeth, furiously. I wouldn't be surprised if I made my gums bleed. But my mouth felt minty fresh, so that was a plus. I walked slowly back out into the bedroom, he was laughing a little bit still.

"Hey. None of that," I said.

"You did not have to do that," he said, shaking his head and laughing a little bit.

"I know. But come over here and kiss me," I demanded. He laughed and took a step toward me and gave me a soft kiss. I returned it much more deeply. After a moment he pushed me away.

"That is a bad idea. I still have not fed. I just wanted to sleep first. I figured I would feed when you left tomorrow for class," he said, putting some distance between the two of us. I didn't care then. I'd let him. Just this once. Just to make him happy.

"Just do it," I said, softly, pressing my body to his, tilting my head to the side. He paused a little bit and leaned down, kissing my neck softly.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his breath hot on my neck. I just nodded a little bit, making a quiet noise of approval. I closed my eyes and felt my body tense. His hands ran up my back, comfortingly. He kissed my neck a few more times and then I felt him bite me. To my surprise, there was no pain. He was right that it didn't hurt. Quite the opposite, really. It felt amazing. I moaned slightly, pressing myself to him. He sucked gently on my neck and it felt sort of like I was getting a hickey, except better. Much, much better.

When he finished he kissed my neck softly and I could almost feel the small incisions his teeth made close. I blinked. It didn't feel at all like I had given blood. I wasn't light headed. We were both panting a little bit. I stared at him and then just whispered.

"Woah. That was. I'm not sure what that was. But wow." I gasped.

"Indeed," he whispered. "Thank you, Bennevolyn. You are delicious." He smirked then and I rolled my eyes. I felt more awake than I should. I shifted a little against him and whispered.

"I want to dance again." He was silent for a moment.

"It is a little late for that. Perhaps tomorrow?" he responded. I shook my head.

"No. I want to dance now," I said, and I stepped away from him and started to dance with him. Dancing to the music in my head. It was nice. My body pressing to his. He groaned a bit and I couldn't help but be amused by that. I wanted him. I kept dancing. I lifted my arms above my head during the dance and he pulled my tank top off. I smirked and turned away from him, backing up against him. He laughed. His hands rested briefly on my hips, and then slid up my sides. He leaned back and unclasped my bra, before letting his hands slide back down my body.

I turned back to him and gave him an appraising look. I tried to make it coquettish. To make my expressions say 'that's now how you dance, Anton'. I'm not sure if it worked. But he smiled sheepishly as I slid my arms to his sides, not caring as my bra fell to the ground between us. I pressed my body to his and continued the music-less dance. He groaned as I pressed my hands to his chest and pushed him down onto the bed.

He laughed and fell onto it. Sitting up after a moment. I moved close to his lap and continued the dance. He stared up at me. His hands found my hips again. I swayed them. I spun around and continued the dance. I felt his fingers hook into my pajama shorts. I spun around again and he blushed sheepishly as I shook my head at him. I reached out and hooked my hands into his shorts. He lifted his body up as I pulled down, disregarding the rest of his clothing. He lay back on the bed, staring at me. I laughed a little bit, pausing the dance.

"That worked better than I expected," I smiled. He just laughed. Sitting up in the middle of the bed.

"Come here," he pleaded. I shook my head.

"Not yet," I said, twirling a bit and slowly resuming the dance. He moaned loudly and just stared at me. After a few more moments of dancing I shimmied out of the rest of my clothing and crawled back onto the bed. He just stared at me. Admiringly. He sat up a bit on the bed and I crawled into his lap. We kissed, and moaned, and I continued the dance. Slowly. So very slowly. Everything got more intense, more passionate, but the tempo stayed slow. I didn't speed it up at all. His hands slid all over my body, everywhere he could touch. His lips kissed everywhere he could kiss. I let him, controlling the dance, my arms around his neck. The dance continued for a very long time. We both lost ourselves. It was wonderful. Completely wonderful. I just kept moving, swaying into him and away from him, reveling in his touch, in his complete attention on me. Our eyes stayed locked, our breathing was matched. We just focused on each other. Because, for that moment, absolutely nothing else mattered.

When it was finally over he fell back onto the bed. I didn't move for a moment before curling on top of him, resting my head on his chest. His hands slid up my back and into my hair. I could tell, without seeing, that he was playing with one of the streaks. I closed my eyes and snuggled a little bit closer to him.

"Dancing is fun," he said dumbly. I laughed a little bit.

"I told you," I said softly. He continued to twirl my hair.

"Yes, you did," he said before resting his hands on my back. I sighed gently.

"Please don't just walk out again. I mean, you don't have to tell me everything that you do. But please don't just leave and not come back again," I said softly. He didn't respond for a moment.

"Okay," he said softly. I nodded a little bit against his chest and started to drift off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning to a pair of hands sliding all over my body. It was slightly unnerving. I was not sure how I felt about being felt up in my sleep. But it stopped almost as soon as I opened my eyes, and I soon had something else to think about.

"Good. You are awake now. Your phone alarm has been going off in the other room for about a half hour," he said softly, with no hint of annoyance at that. I rolled off of him, taking most of the blankets with me and groaned.

"What?" I asked. I noticed he winced then and pulled a blanket back on top of him. He held it up in a strange way, blocking the window.

"Ouch, Benne!" He said. I blinked before I realized that when I moved off of him it exposed him to the sunlight.

"I thought the sun was okay!" I exclaimed. "You said you can go out during the day!"

"I can. It still hurts though. And it is rather unpleasant when it catches me off guard!" he said. I blinked and looked at him and then just broke out laughing. "What!" he exclaimed.

"You. You're like curled up under a blanket hiding. It's adorable. Big bad Anton Tepes, ruler of Chicago! And here you are hiding from the sun. It's funny!" I kept laughing. He joined me after a minute.

"I suppose you have a point," he admitted. I nodded, still smiling. He changed that rather quickly though. "Too bad for you that you still have class in a half hour." My face fell.

"I'm never going to make it on time!" I jumped up, dropping the blankets onto the bed and ran into his bathroom to shower. I may have set a speed record in the shower, and with dressing. I was running toward the exit, determined to not be too late to class when he spoke.

"Wait a second, Lyn," he said. I paused and looked at him.

"Kind of in a hurry, Anton," I said, standing there impatiently. He looked up at me and sipped his coffee. He did like caffeine. He said it helped during the day. Perhaps vampires weren't all that different than many of us.

"Why?" He asked. I blinked.

"We just went over this. Late for class," I said.

"It is only about a fifteen minute drive, even in the worst traffic, to your campus," he said. I looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Yes, and I have to pray I don't miss the bus, then hope it doesn't take forever at the stops, and hope that I can cover the two blocks to the campus quickly," I explained as if I were talking to a four year old. He smiled.

"Or you can grab my coat and the keys to the Maserati and I can drive you to your class," he said softly. I looked at him for a moment and then smiled brightly.

"Would you?" I asked.

"Of course," he responded. "I should probably consider getting you a car, too," he said. I shook my head.

"No. That's way too much money. You're not doing that," I said sternly. He nodded.

"Then I will just have to drive you. I really don't mind," he said. Then he added, "And I do have business to take care of up in Evanston, too," he explained as I grabbed his coat and his keys and walked back to the table. He took them both from me. Standing to put his coat on, and then taking the keys and walking with me to the elevator.

"Thanks. I do appreciate it," I said as we entered the elevator and started to head for the garage. "What business do you have up in Evanston?" I asked.

"I got a tip on someone who may be aware of Larson's current whereabouts. I am going to pay him a little visit and see if I can convince him to tell me those whereabouts," Anton explained as we stepped into his car. He started it then and I was greeted by the same familiar purr of the engine. Even knowing nothing about cars I still liked that noise.

"Where did the information come from?" I asked. We had not talked about my assailants in a while. I was rather curious. I looked at him then, and he gazed back, almost appraisingly. He seemed to be thinking about whether or not I was worthy of receiving an answer to that question. I paused and added, "If I'm allowed to ask questions like that."

"You can ask. In fact, if anyone should be allowed to know, Bennevolyn, it would be you. It is just strange talking so openly about it. My information came from Dalia," he said. I nodded. Of course it did. This vampire chick seemed to be just about everywhere in his life. I didn't want to be annoyed by that, but I was.

"When did you see her?" I asked. It would have annoyed me more if he immediately ran back to her when we were fighting. If what we did could even be called a fight.

"She stopped by my office shortly after the sunset yesterday. She had remembered something about Larson that she had been trying to recall for a few days, and figured it would be best to relay that information to me in person rather than electronically," he said. I nodded a little bit.

"That's nice of her," I said. "There's really nothing between you two?" I asked quietly. He laughed.

"Nothing at all," he said. He paused for a moment. "In fact, you should probably thank her."

"Why is that?" I asked, wondering what I would have to thank the vampire for.

"She asked me about you after we discussed the bit about Larson. I told her we were having a fight. She thought that was silly and asked me to explain what we were fighting about. She called me an idiot and told me to, and these are her exact words, 'get my stupid ass back home and apologize.'" He said. I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Well you obviously didn't explain the story fully then. Why I couldn't just leave the room and not be such a baby is still beyond me," I admitted. He smiled a little bit.

"Anyway, after that she pretty much kicked me out of my office and dragged me back to the condo. I almost expected her to come up with me to make sure I handled everything properly. I came up and you had already gone to sleep. I didn't want to wake you right away so I sat around for a bit before trying to sneak into bed," He finished his little story. I smiled a bit at him.

"You know. You never really did apologize," I teased. It occurred to me that I'm not sure if I apologized, either, but I hadn't brought it up. So I was rather amused.

"You are right, Lyn, I do not believe I have," he said, as he pulled into the small parking lot on my campus, near my classroom building.

"Well are you going to?" I asked as I unfastened my seatbelt and gathered up my backpack. He just smirked at me.

"You are going to be late for class," he said. I laughed a little bit and got out of the car. But before I could close the door he spoke again. "Oh, Lyn?" I turned and looked at him.

"Yes, Anton?"

"I am sorry. I will see to it that it never happens again," he said, smiling fully at me.

"Thank you, Anton," I couldn't help but continue to laugh. I noticed other students were walking toward class and staring at me as I got out of the fancy Italian sports car. It was somewhat flattering, even if I couldn't tell if the boys were looking at me, or the car.

"Now get to class before I make you more late," he jokingly ordered. I laughed again.

"Yes sir. Good luck with your business ventures," I smiled as I spoke. It was his turn to laugh.

"Thank you," he said as I closed the door and started walking off to class. I could see other students watching the car as it drove away and I felt proud of myself. I'm not sure why I did, but I felt happy and very content. I saw two of my almost friends walking toward me and I couldn't help but smirk to myself. This was going to be one hell of a thing to explain.

Fortunately, I managed to avoid them until we walked into the classroom. Veronica sat next to me while Megan, the same Megan from Grand Lux, sat behind me. Veronica was a much closer friend than Megan. She had been my roommate before, but elected to find an apartment instead. We hadn't spent that much time together this year, though.

"Who was that?" Veronica spoke first.

"Was that the guy from the bar?" Megan asked.

"Yes," I replied as the professor walked in. I reached into my bag and took out my notebook and the books I needed for class. "His name is Anton. We're dating," I said. That sounded like such a lame term. Both girls looked slightly jealous.

"His car looked very nice," Veronica admitted. The professor started to write something on the board. He tended to do that, write random ideas on the board before class. It was slightly irritating to try to figure out where the lesson was going to go. But it gave me an excuse to postpone the conversation.

"Well we're all free for lunch after this. Let's grab a bite and I'll tell you all about it then," I said.

"Ooh. I'll invite Sara!" Megan said. I stifled a groan as the professor began to talk. I don't remember what the lecture was about. It was a required philosophy class that focused on world religions. Well, at least that's what the class description said. There was little focus on world religions. Rather more European religions, specifically Catholicism and Protestantism. I took it because the 'rate my professor' said the professor was boring but incredibly easy. So far it was proving to be correct.

I spent more time wondering whether or not Anton had some interesting stories of the religious changes of the time. I should really question him more about events in his past. I scribbled down notes as I listened to the lecture, however the notes didn't seem to have anything to do with the class. Thinking back, I probably just wrote down random words that I overheard during the class.

It occurred to me that I should be spending more time practicing dance. I'd been rather lazy with it lately. Mostly because of Anton. My routine usually had more time spent in the school's studio, mostly because it got me out of my room. But as I was spending more time with Anton that had gone away. I needed to rectify it. And what better time to rectify that then after the dance class I had after lunch? I took out my cell and craftily texted him while the lecture was going on, hiding it carefully under my desk. I'm sure the professor knew, but it was still courtesy to act like I wasn't texting, I suppose.

"I'm going to spend some more time up here for dance practice tonight. Think you could pick me up around nine?" I sent. I wasn't sure if the dropping off instituted that he would be interested in picking me up. For a moment, I felt like a spoiled child. But, he had commented that he didn't want me out alone at night. I'm not sure if sitting on the bus is quite alone. But, frankly, the thought of a fifteen minute ride home in his Maserati was much better than a half hour on a bus. When I checked my phone a few minutes later he had responded.

"Will do," was his simple response. I put my phone away then and half-listened to the rest of the lecture.

Lunch was an experience as well. Veronica and Megan made sure that I couldn't escape. Perhaps that's phrasing it too harshly. Perhaps it isn't. Megan had indeed gotten hold of Sara, who was waiting for us with a booth at a Chili's a few blocks off of campus. We shuffled into the booth. I took the seat next to Sara. A waiter came by and took our drink order before Sara spoke.

"So good to actually see you, Lyn," she said with a rather obnoxious smirk. I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the blush rising to my cheeks.

"I was in the room a few days ago when you were there," I said.

"Yes, you were, for about two hours," she said. I shrugged. "And now, if the rumors are to be believed, these two have seen the mysterious Anton."

"You have too, both that night at the bar, and when he stopped by the dorm," I said, tilting my head at her comment.

"Yes, but I had a test the next day and wasn't paying that close of attention!" she exclaimed, causing all of us to laugh a little bit. "And he was just watching you for fear you had a concussion!"

"Why would you have had a concussion?" Veronica asked.

"She was mugged," Sara commented offhandedly.

"What?" Veronica asked, gasping a little bit.

"Yes, but Anton stopped them. He took me back to his condo since I refused to go to the hospital. He wanted to make sure I was okay," I explained.

"What, is he a doctor?" Megan asked.

"Well he has a Ph. D," I responded.

"In what?" Veronica asked.

"European History," I responded with a smile.

"And what does that have to do with clarifying whether or not a concussion?" Megan asked.

"Nothing," I said. "But I'm fine. We started talking a lot more then, and he asked me out with him. We realized we rather liked each other, and I've been spending a good deal of time there ever since."

"Yes well, tell us about it!" Sara said. I blushed.

"I'm not sure it's entirely your business," I said as nicely as I possibly could.

"Oh come on! There's no reason to be shy," Sara protested. I just shook my head. Megan intervened on my behalf, perhaps sensing that Sara was being slightly overbearing.

"Or just tell us about him!" she said. I could do that.

"Well what do you want to know?" I asked.

"Well all we know is that he has a car that looks incredibly expensive. He has dark hair, and looked to be in pretty good shape," Veronica took her turn to speak.

"It's a Maserati," I said. I could tell from their expressions that that meant about as much to them as it did to me.

"Yes, whatever, we don't care about the car," Megan said.

"Well he's like you said. He's twenty-four. He's smart. He has dark hair, although it's not as dark as mine. He's in incredible shape, he usually works out after waking up," I felt sort of like I was reading a bad profile synopsis of a made up person. The last bit was true, too. I found it slightly odd. Why would he need to work out. He had just smirked when I asked and said that he did still need to keep in shape, just, like many other things, it took much more time for his muscles to deteriorate.

"What does he do?" Veronica asked.

"He works in the Wrigley building," I responded, as if that settled the matter. Unfortunately, it didn't.

"But what does he do?" Sara asked.

"I'm actually not sure. He never really explained it fully. I get the feeling he's some type of administrator," I explained. "He said it's very boring work."

"Sounds like he works for the mob," Veronica joked. I laughed with the rest of the girls. Strange, how close they were.

"Oh hardly. I think he helps people out who come to his office, with whatever it is they may need help with," I said.

"So yea, the mob," Sara said.

"Sounds more like a social worker to me," Megan commented.

"Me too," Veronica said. "And if he can afford that car perhaps I'm in the wrong field." That elicited more laughter from our table.

"He likes to read all sorts of economic publications too, he's probably really active in the stock market," I said, hoping that would provide a better excuse for however he made his money. Truth be told, I wasn't quite sure what he did to actually generate an income. I'd learned that Dalia still gave him a cut of the club's profits, but he usually donated that to some cause or another. He was strange about accepting money for things he didn't directly do. I could tell that much. I suppose that when one has been around forever they find ways to accumulate money. He had referenced being involved in all sorts of businesses. Again, I suppose that when you have an eternity you can take a gamble every now and then. What's that Kipling poem? If you can gamble everything on one toss and start afresh or something. I should pay more attention in class.

"I need to figure out how that all works," Sara said with a wistful sigh.

"Me too," Veronica agreed.

"Alright, enough. Tell us more about him," Megan interjected. I sighed.

"He's pretty normal, although a bit nocturnal. He likes sports. Seems to watch a lot of auto-racing. He's originally from Romania, but he's been here for a while," I spoke slowly, trying to think of basic ways to describe him.

"Accent?" Sara interrupted.

"No. His English is flawless. I think he speaks a few other languages, but I've never asked. Most of the books I see him reading aren't in English. He loves history and movies. You should see his movie collection, it's amazing. He also likes video games. He makes me play them from time to time. It's somewhat annoying. But, I do have to admit, an amusing way to pass the time." They weren't satisfied with my answers.

"Where does he live?" Megan asked.

"He has a condo on Michigan Avenue," I said softly. The girls gasped.

"I hate to think of how much that costs," Sara shook her head as she spoke. I knew that she was thinking of exactly how much that would cost.

"Is it nice?" Veronica asked.

"Very," I said. He has like four bedrooms. A kitchen, a few standard living areas, and a study-library."

"That sounds huge," Megan said, a look of awe in her eyes.

"Well, it is the penthouse in the Ritz Residencies," I said quietly. All three girls gasped in unison.

"You are a lucky bitch," Sara said. I smiled a little bit. It wasn't the best term, I'll admit, but I certainly felt like a lucky bitch.

"Thanks," I said with a full smile. The waiter returned and took our food order. Surprisingly, we each ordered a different salad. I was the only one who didn't ask for some part of it left off. I sipped the coke I had ordered before. I hadn't even noticed when the waiter returned with it. After a lull in the conversation Sara decided to toss all forms of nicety out.

"So, how is he in bed?" she asked. Again, I could feel the color rushing back to my face.

"That would be none of your business," I said sternly.

"I bet he's selfish," Veronica said. "All that expensive stuff he has, he probably thinks he's the center of the universe."

"No, not at all," I said softly, feeling the distinct urge to defend him.

"So you two have done it?" Sara asked. I just rolled my eyes. I decided to try to change the subject. I knew Sara was incapable of not talking about herself for too long.

"Shouldn't you be more interested in your own love life, Sara?" I asked. She frowned.

"My love life is perfectly fine, albeit a tad one sided, at the moment," she snapped. "But, we're talking about you right now."

"Really?" I asked. "What about that one boy you mentioned that one time." Yes, that was the best I could come up with. Strangely, Sara managed to gather some meaning out of it.

"Oh, Jim?" He's nice. But he is _so_ not my type. He'll never become more than a friend, no matter how hard he tries," she said, nodding as if her word was law.

"Oh come on. He's cute, and very nice," Megan came to the boy's defense. That was interesting. Perhaps there was more to this Jim story than I had cared to learn when Sara was gushing a few nights back.

"Well if you like him so much, ask him out," Sara snapped. Megan frowned.

"When he's chasing after you like a love-sick puppy?" Megan snapped right back.

"Well you're a smart girl, you'll figure something out," Sara said, taking a sip of her lemonade.

"She does have a point, Sara. Perhaps if you would steer him a bit toward her things would work out better," Veronica said. Sara glared at her.

"Maybe they're right," I said quietly, which simply caused Sara to glare at me.

"Oh fine. I'll see what I can do," she said, sounding as annoyed as she possibly could. Our waiter took that moment to return with our food. He blushed furiously as Sara started to flirt with him almost immediately. I unrolled the napkin that held my silverware, placed it in my lap and began to slowly eat.

The conversation carried on, mostly without me. I interjected my opinion on occasion. Sara and Veronica began to argue about the cuteness of the waiter. Megan took that time to discuss our English final paper with me. Neither of us had a topic yet, so the conversation centered mostly around how impossible the entire assignment seemed, despite the fact that we both knew it wouldn't be overly difficult once we finally decided to put forth some effort.

Eventually, the check came. Sara, of course, had forgotten to bring her purse. I picked up her share of the check without commenting. A few months ago this would have really annoyed me, but I wasn't so preoccupied with that now. Megan and I got up to leave, assuming the other two would follow us. They didn't. Sara had decided she would rather focus on flirting with the waiter. We both laughed quietly and walked back out onto the chilly street.

"You have dance next, right?" Megan asked.

"Yea." I nodded. We both started to walk toward the arts center where my classes were. We were continuing Jazz dance this week. I was looking forward to it. At least more than I was for Ballet, which would be next semester. We walked about half a block in silence until I spoke again. "So you like this Jim?"

"Yea," she responded quietly. "Sara's being a bitch about it too. She flirts obsessively with him. Makes sure he doesn't look at anyone else. But has no intention of dating him or anything. She's just mean." Megan seemed very bitter about this. I had a strange idea.

"Do I know him?" I asked.

"Yea. He's the one in our English classes. Tallish, brown hair. A tad too thin, but you know," she said. I thought back a bit. I remembered him vaguely enough to put a face to him.

"Oh. I see. He seems nice. I don't think I've ever spoken more than a sentence to him," I said.

"He's very nice. Smart too. He's actually pre med, which is how he knows Sara, and just getting a minor in English because he liked the general credit class he had to take.

"Oh," I said softly. "That just sounds like the bane of Sara's existence. A future doctor who is actually interested in the humanities."

"Totally," Megan laughed.

"What are you doing this weekend?" I asked. I had an idea, although I wasn't sure if it would work.

:"I don't have anything planned. I was debating going home, but break is coming up anyway," she said.

"Well, let's ambush him tomorrow in Victorian lit," I said with a slightly devious smile. I was craftier than most people gave me credit. At least I liked to think so. "I'll start in with some story about how I'm afraid to go on a date with this guy alone. Ask you if you have someone you can make it a double with, and we'll get him to overhear and bam, white knight to the rescue!" I clapped my hands at 'bam' and laughed a little bit. Megan shook her head.

"You're silly, Lyn. Do you think that actually has a chance at working?" She asked, laughing a little bit at my enthusiasm.

"No idea. But it's worth a shot. Boys love to think they're important and helping," I said. "And if it doesn't work, then I'll just tell him the truth."

"And what would the truth be?"

"That Sara's a bitch and you want to go out on a date with him, of course," I explained in as dry of a tone as I could manage. Megan laughed and shook her head.

"You're almost as bad as she is!" she exclaimed as we approached the arts building.

"I know. It'll be fun though. And you'll like Anton."

"And he won't mind you just arranging a date out of the blue?" she asked.

"I doubt it. He's rather laid back. He'll probably insist on paying too, which is always a plus," I smirked. Megan just laughed.

"I like your hair, by the way," she said, changing the subject. No one else, barring Anton, had commented on it. I smiled a bit.

"Thanks. I use to do more stuff like it when I was younger. You should have seen the look on the stylist's face when I asked for a dark blue," I said with a laugh.

"I bet." Megan smiled. "It looks good on you. I'd never be brave enough to do something like that."

"Oh it's not about brave. If you're interested, just buy some cheap dye from like Walgreens and try it out. Just make sure it's the kind that can wash out. If you like it, try something that lasts longer," I said. That was how I started streaking my hair.

"I may," she responded . We both knew she wouldn't, but that didn't matter. We arrived at the arts building then. "Enjoy class," she said, walking off in the direction of the library.

"Thanks, I will," I said as I swiped my school ID at the door and stepped into the building.

Author's note: Thanks for reading. I appreicate it. It occured to me about halfway through this chapter that I probably should have ignored the fact that the last one would have just had 12000 words and resolved its own conflict perfectly fine. So this winds up a bit disjointed. But such is life.


End file.
